The Drones of War
by transtorque-collapse
Summary: Post '07Movie, pre RotF. Not everyone chooses sides to fight in war. One such mech is forcibly drafted by the Decepticons, forced to carry out their bidding, reassemble a device, and...look after an organic?
1. Abasement

**Warnings:** Language and sci-fi violence  
**Disclaimer:** Transformers belongs to Hasbro. No infringement is intended with the use of canon characters.  
**Summary: **Not everyone chooses sides to fight in war. One such mech is forcibly drafted by the Decepticons, forced to carry out their bidding, collect pieces of a device, and...look after an organic?

Takes place after the '07 movie, but before RotF prequel novel (yes, beware my extreme dorkism).

A/N: Clarification for the sake of imagery; when I say optics in reference to mechs, I'm talking about just the eyeball/pupil; when I say eyes, I'm talking about the entire visage (shutters, "eyebrows", all that).

M'kay, enjoy.

**The Drones of War**

* * *

**1. Abasement**

* * *

"Sir."

The called tech turned. He, like everyone else in the dimly lit room decked out with a number of expensive, high tech working stations, was garbed in the standard, pressed and starched redundant white shirt, black tie, and formal pants. They'd all come to secretly gripe less and less about the seemingly pointless dress code, as they'd seen more than their fair share of government officials lately.

Which is why the mustachioed tech only reluctantly turned and walked over to his fellow.

The man pointed to the monitor screen in front of him, seeming somewhat more intrigued than the tech definitely didn't feel.

"Just downloaded these images from the satellite. There's more of 'em just now falling in."

Unenthusiastically, the mustachioed man leaned around the seated man as he shifted out of the way. Sure enough, there were displayed meteorites falling toward the Earth's surface. He was surprised to see at least four, five, possibly more of the flaming bulks.

"They almost look like they're chasing each other," the seated man observed as he too gazed at the monitor.

The tech on the other hand sighed at this assessment.

"More 'relatives'...?" he murmured.

The seated man swiveled his chair to regard him. "Sir?"

The mustachioed man shook his head and didn't answer.

This wasn't the first time these "meteorites" had fallen to Earth. And he was tired of being in the dark, left to make his own farfetched theories about what they were. Being in the position he was, he had a little more knowledge about these situations than his co-workers. But he only knew what the higher-ups _had_ to tell him, apparently. Which was just too little enough for him to spend sleepless nights conjuring up theories.

Regardless of his feelings, he had a duty to do right now. He sighed discreetly.

"Where does it look like they're landing?"

The relatively young man re-swiveled and efficiently typed a few commands into his keyboard. The image changed to display a rolling field spotted with batches of trees. Trees in which the meteorites had no doubt landed.

"Looks like up in... southern Wyoming somewhere."

The tech nodded wearily as he turned and walked away.

"Calling watch command..."

* * *

The smoking craters the meteorites had caused did contain more than just space rocks.

Out of one of the pits on the perimeter of the gathering, a large, gleaming mechanical entity made its hasty ascension.

It did not stumble, each of its movements deliberate and precise as it freed itself from the deep crater. The loosely humanoid shape stayed on toes and hands for a moment as it glanced back towards the other smoldering craters behind it. A metal plating on its dark back seemed to click into place leisurely, settling in amongst the complicated puzzle that was the rest of its darkly colored metal exoskeleton.

The dark mechanoid lunged forward at that moment, folding and expanding into a clearly alien vehicle, wheels already turning before they hit the ground.

As if this was a secret cue of some kind, the remaining craters produced other, equally loosely humanoid and gleaming metal beings.

One of the largest mechanoids, the most imposing, made an electronic, grating screech as its huge pale blue gleaming form sprang from the crater easily with a hop, a talon pointing after the dark metal form. To a human, the sound would have been a grating, modulating screech. But for these extraterrestrial machines, the sound had been more than just that:

"Do _not_ let him off the radar!"

The five smallest and mostly identical robots went after the first, fleeing mechanoid.

As they made to run past either of his flanks, the entity who had issued the order lifted his hands at his sides to stop the two others.

"Do not engage," he spoke in their modulating, native language again, his crimson optics gazing after the chase. "Yet. The drones will probably cause enough unwanted attention as it is. We don't want more."

The two hesitantly regarded him for a moment from their positions before nodding.

"Yes, commander."

The fleeing machine avoided every shot from the pursuing droids with adroit swerves and weaves, hurtling towards lights off in the distance. He revealed and primed part of his own arsenal, shooting back at the drones.

One took a direct hit, its screeching cut short as the hot, livid plasma seared through its armor and into vital circuitry beneath. One of its allies followed suit almost immediately, keening and reverting to the bipedal shape as its armor disintegrated.

The dark protoform growled as one of the drones managed to come up beside him. His alien wheels sharply turned their direction, grinding the organic matter beneath them.

The tree cracked in two as the drone smashed into it from the fleeing mech's ram. The collision resulted in an exploding robot, frayed circuits bunched and bridled for the right reaction.

Up ahead, the chased mechanoid came up on a steep drop like the side of a hill, ahead of which was the source of the lights. Not slowing in the least, his bulk went over so fast that it didn't go over so much as causing him to go airborne.

A lot happened in the sentient, alien machine's processors in that one instant.

First was the impact of the number of organic creatures he could detect in his immediate surroundings; on the streets, in the buildings, in vehicles. Further scans of them all showed them to be wholly innocuous; the organics were mostly weak and frail themselves, the mechanical entities insentient and unarmed.

Second was the observation of the sharply obvious difference between himself and the other, more primitive machines around him in the suburban area he had hurtled into.

Third, the protoform's natural instinct to chameleon the things it sees in new surroundings, to blend in.

Scanners darted through the options in the area, invisible, even if one had been able to keep up with the rate at which they were going. The mechanoid quickly settled on a transportation vessel, happening to be almost directly the first vehicle parked closest to him.

He made a few adjustments to the scan he'd taken, initiating the change.

The flash drew the attention of the nearest organics. The monstrous roar of the engine followed by the boom of the new form hitting the tar, stuttering the roar into revving and back to roar, caught the attention of a few more.

Fortunately, the mechanoid knew, there was a greater distraction following close behind.

* * *

"...strange things this year, haven't we, Mark?"

"That's right, Carla, strange things indeed. Speaking of which, let's go on to our next story.

"Strange sightings up in Wyoming a few hours ago. Happened right after sunset, says here- Let's go to clips from our national news feed."

"The residents of southern Wyoming are just days away from one of the biggest automotive exhibition-competitions of the entire region. Trucks towing _car_ towing trailers can be seen everywhere. People from all over the country flock to be a part of the festivities."

The news reporting drawl shifted to civilian interviews, background noise of the everyday streets rampant in the audio.

"Yeah, I look forward to this show every year."

"Yeah, yeah. It's great. Great food, fast cars. Hot girls. What more could a guy want in an event?"

The last interviewed's raucous laughter was cut short as the reporter's voice took over again.

"The event has been known to start off with a show of bells-and-whistles in order to bring out more people. But this year, what's believed now to have been the opening flash has most everyone talking. The event enthusiasts, car buffs. Even conspiracy theorists."

"I don't know what they were. The strangest vehicles I've ever seen."

"I don't believe they were cars at all, no! They were too weird. They were alien. And you know that stuff that happened down in Mission City a few months ago?"

"They _were_ weird, I'll give you that. But I don't believe they were _alien_ or anything like that. Just really advance engineering. The next generation of the automotive industry."

"Dude, I _swear_ the things didn't even have _wheels_! Hover-crafts, man!"

"This is believed to be actual footage of the, 'strange vehicles' everyone is talking about, shot by an teenager who claims to have come out of a shopping center after hearing '_booming explosions_' from nearby."

As the reporter's voice continued, the strangely rounded sound of an engine provided her background.

"Witnesses say there were at least two of the 'strange crafts,' traveling at high velocities down the streets. They also say the crafts split up and took separate streets at one point and weren't seen again."

"It was awesome. One of the best openers yet."

"I don't know _wh—_"

"Sam?" called a voice not from the television.

The called boy didn't respond, still frozen staring at the screen showing the bizarre machines. His face was fading from red as he had just recovered from a terse coughing fit, the table in front of him speckled with milk and a few escaped cereal loops from the bowl his spoon had clattered noisily back into.

"Samuel James Witwicky, do you not hear me talking to you?"

The boy blinked as he turned to see the man's head peer around the corner.

"Sorry, Dad."

"'Sorry, Dad,'" the man growled back at him, "What's wrong with you?"

"What? Oh, uh. Nothing. I just, uh, just remembered that thing I was supposed to go to Miles's and do tonight."

Mr. Witwicky continued to regard his son, staring critically as a parent often does as if to decipher the true meaning behind the boy's facade and words.

"Well," he said finally, jerking his head at the table. "Clean this mess up. Your mom's coming."

"I'm already here, afraid."

They heard the door close, Judy Witwicky appearing in the kitchen a few seconds later. She walked through to the next room to drop her bags on the couch.

"Hi, boys. Did you manage well without me these past few days?" Her eyes found the drained bowl of cereal in front of her son as she walked over to him.

"Hm. That well, huh?" she commented. Her thin fingers gently took a handful of her son's hair, positioning his face for a peck on the cheek. "Oh, I missed you. I'll get dinner started."

Ron stared at his wife as she took out a pot and filled it with water. "What, your own husband doesn't get a hello kiss?"

Judy laughed. She turned and walked over to the man where he sat at the desk, her arms outstretched. "Hello, dear."

Sam walked beside the love fest, grabbing his coat from a chair and heading for the door, cereal, bowl, and milk properly cleaned up and forgotten.

"And where are you going?" asked the mother, straightening up into a stern akimbo stance.

"Miles's!" called Sam.

"Eleven o'clock!"

He closed the door on his father's warning, trotting over to the driveway. The new model Camaro sat there, its mustard-colored paintjob reflecting the street light's in the night.

Sam had managed to get away with the story that the government had given him the newer model Camaro—still hot out of the fire of premiering in autoshows—in consolation for a misunderstanding that had occurred involving his old one. A reminder of the pompous behavior of the Sector Seven agents' the night Sam had met the Autobots seemingly would have been enough to convince them. _And_ with Captain Lennox and a few of his soldiers there to back it up, how could his parents not believe it?

The story stuck, but he knew that he'd eventually have to come out with the truth.

He made a show of sliding his fingers under the trick door handle in case anyone was watching. The door popped open, and he slid in.

"Hey Bee."

The car's speakers crackled to life as a pleasant chirrup of greeting sounded. Sam grinned despite himself at the sound.

He turned the key in the ignition. The Camaro's engine purred smoothly to life, just a soft hum as compared to the old one's roaring thunder of an engine. He thumped the steering wheel lightly.

"To the mall, James. Or somewhere. They'll get suspicious if I just sit in my car in the driveway again. I'll be in therapy before have a say with my mom."

Bumblebee beeped and began to back out of the driveway. Sam again made a show of turning and steering down the pavement, though the tinted windows made the action almost completely an over precautionary.

He waited until they had made their way down the road a few miles before speaking again.

"So, you caught that broadcast, right?"

"Optimus has everyone on alert," rasped Bumblebee's voice. Though the All-Spark had restored his vocals to a functioning state, they still weren't fully repaired. Though it was bliss to have vocals functioning again ("impossibly," to put it in Ratchet's words), Bumblebee had grown a fondness for using other Earth audio that was almost equally as sincere.

Sam sighed, leaning back in the seat. "That's what I thought," he said. "More of ours though?"

There was a pause.

"We're not sure, but we don't think so," the mechanoid responded carefully. "The report of more making planetfall came a few hours before that news broadcast. They were too close to a civilized area. Their movements were too aggressive as well."

"Oh," was all the boy said, holding the steering wheel but gazing out the window.

"And add to that the ones that went into the populated area without local camouflage," his guardian continued, voice informative and thoughtful. "It's unlikely that anything but a drone would pass a potential disguise to take on and not scan. Autobots have been known to use drones, but not very often. Not nearly as much as the Decepticons like to. There's too much controversy concerning them."

"Great," Sam sighed.

"There's nothing to worry about," stated Bumblebee. "There haven't been any reports of accidents or anything from the area. Still a chance there could be friendlies."

"I'm not really worried, Bee," spoke the boy, clasping and flipping his hands out in front of him in a stretch. "Just more...riled up is the only way I can think to put it. And not an excited riled up either."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. The lights of the town around them began to appear in more redundancy. The small town, built on the outskirts of the actual city, was not much to look at. Just a collection of buildings, most of which had been completed in the late twentieth century. The rest had seen better days.

Bumblebee pulled into one of the parking spaces on the side of the road, engine settling into a light idle.

Sam sighed again.

"I guess we'd better at least drop by Miles's. With his featherbrains he might not remember if I tell him 'If my parents ask, I was there and we were doing a thing tonight, okay?'" He laughed at some visualization before his face became pensive again. "But maybe, first, we could—"

He startled slightly at a light rap on the passenger's side window. Before he could react to it in a proper response, the door clicked open of its own accord. Sam stared at the lean figure as she slid into the seat, long dark hair falling from her face.

"Mikaela?" He stared, looking from her then to the dashboard, marveling at how well his car had seemed to read his thoughts of his girlfriend's wellbeing. "How—?"

Mikaela held up her cell phone in response to the question.

"I texted Bumblebee." she said, smiling lightly at the boy's almost dazed look. Her look turned serious again. "You saw that broadcast?"

Sam understood then. "Yeah," he responded. "We were just talking about it."

She nodded, turning to look at the radio in the dashboard.

"What do you think it is, then?"

* * *

"Commander Thundercracker."

His wings flexing vaguely where they were set in place on his shoulders, the addressed mechanoid turned, facing the androids as they approached from the entrance of the large abandoned seemingly military hangar.

Stockade, at the front of the group, stepped aside to be out of the blue mech's line of sight. Two drones, flanking a third, wine-red mechanoid, his hands restrained behind his back, led a small precession of two more drones—one sparking Energon—and one more sentinel.

Thundercracker gave a short, cold laugh, watching the drones force their prisoner to his knees.

"Caught at last," he said, his wide maw moving with the words as he approached the middle of the leading trio. His eyes narrowed to slits as his optics examined the red mechanoid. "You didn't _really_ think you could get away from me?"

The restrained mech lifted his head, purple optics meeting crimson. He growled, a feral, baritone sound.

Thundercracker shook his head.

"Such disrespect. It shall be made up for in full, I assure you."

Without warning, the flyer's clawed hand shot out and gripped the captive's shoulder just beside his neck. There was a straining squeak as the talons sank into the armor.

The restrained mech's head dropped and his mouth opened in a snarl, a strained, modulated roar-like sound emitting from his vocals.

"Insubordination means punishment," hissed Thundercracker vehemently. The mech did not respond. "I don't want to eviscerate you," continued Thundercracker. "You're too potentially useful to waste."

He gripped tighter, faint snaps sounding. "You may never consciously decide to join the Decepticons, neutral. But you _will_ obey me.

"Now then." Thundercracker opened his hand, claws callously dislodging from the wine colored mech's armor with the quick movement. The captive stayed silent.

"Lord Starscream feels that you may redeem yourself today," spoke the Decepticon pleasantly. "I have a job for you."

His head turned. "Stockade. You have made sure the humans cannot get near the wreckage site?"

Stockade stepped forward, giving a little bow.

"As best I can," he spoke. "But the pests are persistent. I cannot be sure how long the obstacles will hold."

Thundercracker nodded. He opened communication lines. "Barricade?"

"They are still holding fairly well. The humans are still clearing the rubble. They have no air units in this area anymore either. The nearest must come from over statelines."

"Good. Keep us updated here."

"Of course." The line broke off.

The Decepticon lieutenant's crimson optic's fell on the dark-red mech again. His eyes were hard, but countenance unreadable.

"You are to traverse to the primary wreckage site. As I'm sure you probably know," he growled, eyes narrowing to slits again, "the generator we were carrying broke apart on planetfall. The fault _is_ your own. Making it all the more befitting that you do as I tell you and be the one to retrieve the pieces we didn't manage to hold onto. This planet does not have the resources to repair the container. We _need every_ piece. Go and comb the area thoroughly. I need Stockade here, and you can get much closer than the drones could without notice."

He approached again, getting right into the captive's face.

"And not to worry. You cannot refuse me. If you try and escape, I will always send someone to find you. To hunt you down. In endless repetition."

Thundercracker turned his back, taking a few steps away. The dark-red mech kept his optics on him now, countenance still unreadable.

"Is trying to escape really worth it?" continued the Decepticon, his hands interlacing behind him. "Is it worth living out your useless life, doing nothing but hiding and running forever more? Is it worth the effort, _just_ to be brought back again? Is it worth the punishment you will be sure to receive upon every attempt...?"

Thundercracker turned to regard the restrained mechanoid, the red optics burning into the purple.

"...Arson?"

Arson still said nothing, a slow, muted growl emitting from his vocalizer.


	2. Tenure

**2. Tenure**


	3. Acclimate

A/N: Finally got the next chapter out of my head in the form of somewhat coherent thought and onto paper.

* * *

**3. Acclimate**

* * *

The all encompassing threat of death by alien machine failed to make her meek.

Making her somewhat uneasy was something of a different story.

After a bit of..._aggressive _coaxing, Ben had gotten into the mechanoid's cab, realizing that the odds of her actually outrunning a truck—or someone four times her height, at that—were slim to nothing.

Aside from that, the middle of nowhere in a cold Wyoming field was not a friendly place for an unsupplied human.

If that was even where they still were, she realized as she had climbed into the truck, trying not to think about what she was doing.

He'd hardly explained anything more to her; in essence, all she'd gotten was that something or someone apparently in a higher position than he was wanted her alive for her usefulness, he happened to be the unlucky caretaker, and she was to do as he told her. The underlying, giant-alien-robot-is-in-_NO_-mood-for-games threat had been clear in the last part.

Ben didn't bother to ask how they planned to cover up her disappearance; it seemed to be fairly clear.

She was dead. Her remains had been incinerated from the sheer heat of the "meteor's" impact.

She knew she must have stayed awake for all of half an hour after she and her new keeper had set off and again found civilization in the form of the paved road. She was unable to help herself from staring a little paranoidly around the interior, the only other option to stare at the eerily turning steering wheel in front of her (hands firmly sat upon). It didn't help that the dim moonlight didn't reach everywhere; Ben kept partly expecting something to come from the dark space of cramped foot room behind either front seat and grab her.

For the entire ride as she sat in horror movie suspense, the robot-made-truck's radio had been tuned in to various news feeds, some of which she was sure were not standard for even overpriced satellite radio.

While the un-standard appeared to be people speaking in coded messages as they took turns reporting updates on what Ben perceived to be a search, the standard was the droning news she was used to. Talk of what was left of the house she'd left behind never came up in it.

_Of course. Where there are alien robots, there's sure to be government involvement and cover-ups._

Eventually, Ben lost interest as the inevitable imperative of sleep demanded to be addressed. She gave the steering wheel one last suspicious look—its effect lost due to the exhaustion burning her eyes and the constant, throbbing headache—before she carefully laid her head on a shoulder and cautiously closed her eyes.

A sharp, electronic noise startled her out of sleep what seemed like minutes later.

Eyes wide and posture alert, it took Ben a moment to reregister her situation. The moonlight haloed trees outside of the windows had been replaced by sunlight ringed buildings and a few early bird people.

Taking this in, she rubbed her eyes and stretched with an irritated groan.

Not only was the self-driving shadowy-red truck apparently beyond a hospital-administered morphine plus antiseptic induced illusion, still real despite her nap. But it was sentient and _demanding_ too.

She was not liking this.

At least her new keeper wasn't too much of a stand out, as she suggested to herself as a consolation. Now that it was light out, she studied his interior. It was superficially normal; air vents, radio, speedometer and other partner dials, even a blank, in-dash GPS scr—

"Hands on the wheel," the mechanoid rumbled through his speaker system.

Ben came back from her zoning out with a start at his words. This was going to take some getting used to.

Despite herself, old rebellious-against-hostility habit kicked in.

"And if I refuse?"

Arson gave his equivalent of a snort at the significantly insignificant query. "I have no quandary. If we draw attention, however, the future ramifications will come down on your malleable organic back."

The human gave her own snort and leaned back into the seat, her eyes closing and head going back in clear insurgence.

"No one's going to notice anyway. If they do they won't believe their eyes."

Arson could see already that he was caught in something he would enjoy far less than he'd already imagined. From the very first one he'd seen to the ones passing his guise at that very moment, he felt justified to conclude that humans were such frustratingly contradictory creatures. The one he'd been charged with especially so, it seemed.

"It is amusing that you would speak so nonchalantly," he intoned, injecting his words with derision.

Ben responded without moving anything but her lips in a sigh.

"How so?"

"You are anxious."

She gave the steering wheel a convincingly indignantly questioning look, as if to say, "What? I am not."

"Your nervous system's registry tells me as much."

Yep. Definite getting used to.

She put on a passive facade.

"Yeah, well you would be too if you were sitting and riding inside of a sentient machine that could—and probably very much would like to—kill you at any moment in almost any way it wished."

Arson inwardly felt a swell of dark humor at the thought. At least his primitive little human had the sense to be aware of her surrounding situation.

"Yes. If I was a fleshy, primordial organic such as yourself, I might just kill myself before anyone else got to it first," he quipped mockingly. "Remember that."

She glared. This was satisfying enough for him. That is, until a moment later, when her eyes closed and she leaned back again as a slight smirk found her lips.

His alien augmented engine sent a rumble through him.

This infernal organic had nerve. And a definite audacity that was starting to show. Audacity that he was sure would get the human hurt or otherwise—worse—in the long run. The ramifications of which would come down on _his_ back.

It was only a few minutes more of driving before they pulled into a parking lot and Ben heard the engine cut. She stared at the quaint little bank across the parking lot through the passenger's window on the other side, incredulously listening to the mech's instructions.

"Won't a dead person taking money out of an account look kind of suspicious?"

"Barricade will adjust it to make it look as if you withdrew from your assets yesterday."

She paused halfway out of the cab and turned to regard the steering wheel.

"What's a '_Barricade_?'" Surely he wasn't talking about an _actual_ roadblock?

Her seat vibrated lightly with the by now all too familiar rumble from the pretend truck.

"Barricade is a reconnaissance scout."

Names?

"You got a name too?"

"_Arson._"

Ben paused thoughtfully.

"Is that—"

"_Go_," the truck growled at her with finality.

Ben sighed dismissively and slid out to her feet. She concentrated on slowing her heart from the most recent adrenaline rush the mechanoid had caused. It didn't help her to be any less annoyed when she remembered that he could apparently detect her heart rate.

The doors of the bank swung open smoothly and with ease, the warm air that flowed through them scented with the smell of copy paper and a general office setting.

At the less discreet stares of the few people in line, she became self-aware of her somewhat tattered and definitely dirty clothes. She inwardly groaned.

Ben walked to the back of the line, sending a "discreet" glare back at a little boy whose gaze had tarried on her longer than everyone else's. He moved closer to his mother and quickly turned away.

Her turn in line came mercifully quickly.

Doing as she'd been told, Ben withdrew about two thousand dollars from her personal savings account; her "parents'" account was out of the question, as they only credited a card they'd left with her enough of a monthly allowance for whatever she needed. And _then_ she only got more than that when she called them and told them what she needed to do.

The accountant stared at her somewhat suspiciously for a few moments when she'd asked for it all in cash, but forked it over anyway.

At least this part made sense, Ben thought. If they were supposed to be keeping a low profile—which was obviously the case, since Arson hadn't simply ripped the ceiling off the place and demanded money for her, or hacked an ATM and risk giving her a card to use and being tracked—cash was the optimal way to go.

Tucking the money safely away in a pocket, Ben made her way back out to the truck.

"I think I just got a cashier fired." She wasn't sure the limit on cash payouts. But if two thousand dollars _wasn't _it, it had to be at least pretty close. "And I'm gonna need some new clothes if I have to keep going out in public like this."

"You can get what you need when we arrive at our destination."

Her look turned questioning.

"Where are we going?"

As if to answer her question, when the engine turned and started, the GPS screen flickered on. It was just for what must have been all of two seconds, but it was enough to answer the human's question.

"_Arizona?_ Why are we going there?"

Arson felt another ping of irritation. The organic was becoming more and more courageous in talking to him. An attribute which was becoming more and more annoying with each comment. He sighed.

Ben felt the airflow into the cab from the vents, the mechanoid apparently meaning it to be obvious as it blew her mid-shoulder-blade hair back.

"We aren't staying in proximity of our planetfall," he answered.

"Yeah, okay. But why _Arizona_?"

"It is most convenient. It's away from the site, and there are multiple Spark casing pieces to retrieve there," growled the speakers at her again.

"Are you kidding me? The things spread out that far?"

There was a rumble—obviously translated to _Shut_ up_, human_—before the truck spoke again.

"It was just entering this planet's upper atmosphere when it broke apart."

Ben groaned, falling back in the seat. She was obviously not happy, her brow furrowed.

"_Arizona_," she repeated. "And it's _hot _there."

She'd just gotten used to Wyoming's temperatures, and found that she liked the warm summers better than the sweltering hot summers she'd been used to. And now? Back into the heat she went. Worse heat than she was used to, at that.

"This planet is distant from the sun at present in its orbit."

"Yeah it's winter _now_. But it gets hot." She sighed. "Just until we get these 'pieces?'"

"I am not a _home_ for organics, human."

Ben groaned now as she brought her hands up to massage her eyes.

"_Permanent residence_?" she groused.

.

"Permanent residence," she repeated to herself, looking up at the dilapidated building through the windshield as they approached it.

They'd definitely picked an out-of-the-way place for her to stay.

Ben was certain the guised truck had taken a roundabout way to their destination; there was no way it took more than twenty-four hours driving non-stop to go south two states. Sometime after finally seeing the big "Welcome to Arizona!" sign between drowsing in the silence, she'd watched as they'd gone through and left the city and through the suburbs, continuing on until small and quaint neighborhoods every once in a while were all one came across.

Exurbia.

The large garage door on the building's side slowly opened as they approached, Arson rolling through it when it was wide enough. He braked and his engine cut.

Her door popped open, and Ben involuntarily drew back from the dreary view in the opening.

"A hangar?"

The dimly lit room was at least a good twenty square feet in area, ceiling almost twice as high above. The concrete floor was covered in dust and dirt, splotched different shades through aging and some kind of chemicals. Cobwebs were even viewable high in the corners from where she sat in the driver's seat.

"We'll be staying here," the omnipresent voice announced in its apparently natural growl passively.

Ben turned to regard the dashboard, facade questioning. This was a small hangar. Small hangars usually meant Busch planes. Busch planes usually meant noxious pesticides.

"Uh,—"

She cut short when the vehicle around her shook. Or rather moved, in a way manmade vehicles usually didn't.

She quickly scrambled out and away from him.

Trotting to the wall, she found herself standing in front of a flimsy metal door, the peeling faded black paint identical to the rest of the wall.

Ben stared at it. There was more to this building? It occurred to her that the side the door led to had been obscured from view the way they'd pulled up. The fact that it was late afternoon played a vital factor as well.

She reached out for the weathered handle and turned it—but not before looking back and glaring at the claret colored Avalanche for causing her false alarm. The door swung open slowly at her push with one quick, lone squeak.

A kitchen. The floor here was covered in a cheap, roll-out covering imprinted with tile patterns. It was scuffed oddly in some places. There was a counter a few feet in front of her, parallel to the wall she'd come through. On top of it sat a small, analog TV.

Ben walked in further. There was a small refrigerator, a stove, and multiple worn-down wood cabinets. Through a new door she found a small bathroom.

She walked back to the "garage," still reveling in bemusement at why someone would add an extension to a hangar. Obviously giant alien robots couldn't have done it. Then again, if they were advanced enough to perfectly mimic other machines... But no, the handiwork here was too rough.

She'd been opening her mouth to speak when she reached her initial entrance, but trailed off when her eyes wandered to the small bed right beside the door. An old, thin mattress sat on top of an undoubtedly old, rusting metal bed frame.

Ben looked from it to the truck twice. Right across the room, where she couldn't move without him seeing it .Where she couldn't _breath_ without him hearing it. Though he'd made a point to settle as far away as the room allowed, it was still a short enough distance that he could be within human-squashing distance with merely a few of his ten-foot strides. Her head shook slowly.

"I—probably should have seen that one coming..."

* * *

Ben slept with her back to the mechanoid. Regardless of her situation, once she put it out of her mind to give her brain a rest, it was one of the deepest sleeps she'd gotten in some time.

Taking a shower had been the same in that it topped all others. The only somewhat warm water stung in her various obtained cuts and scrapes, an especially painful stinging area on her back. With no soap on hand (she had a feeling there was more she'd forgotten too; toilet paper thankfully not among them. Still, she hoped they'd go for vital vittles again once her mind had managed to wrap itself around all that had happened and settled enough to think straight), she'd tenderly cleaned up as best she could and waited leisurely until the water wasn't clouded with dirt and ash going down the drain before she got out.

Being as how they were in for the freezing nights of the desert climate and no air conditioner, Ben drowsily sat up from where she'd been curled up under the bed's thin sheet fully dressed.

She gave half a stretch as she stood up unseeingly, joints popping. Her hand managed to find the doorknob in the dim moonlight, walking through the door on a bathroom call.

When she returned, she froze with a start beside the bed.

Her wide-eyes stayed locked on the giant, mechanical creature lying in the corner. It hastily rose to its feet a second after she saw it, as if in response to her spike in heart rate. A low, almost rumbling grinding sound ripped from the metal dragon's mouth between its now exposed metal teeth, gleaming like finely sharpened daggers in the faint moonlight. A dull glow grew from the noise's source in its throat.

Ben was keenly aware as she watched its head move as it scanned the room twice. When its violet optics fell alertly on her, the grinding noise receded, the glow subsequently doing the same. Still, it didn't quiet click in the human's head until the beast gave a familiar, almost dismissive and condescending snort, the dark-red color of its armor finally reaching her in the scant light as the beast laid back down on the floor.

"—_Arson?_"

The dragon rolled its eyes at her, again condescendingly. She gawked.

Ben knew, if this were TV, now would be around the time the sizzling of her brain could be heard and steam started coming out of her ears. Or the like.

First the truck had revealed itself to be bipedal, and now, this? The four-legged Arson had even sprouted a tail.

A giant, wingless, meachanical dragon.

_Slash-robot-slash-truck._

Ben shook her head slowly, brain still sorting things. The rumbling. The growling. The pretty much all around feral attitude. Not to mention appearance.

"Well _that_ explains a lot," she said finally, falling into the bed.

Arson just growled.

* * *

"Mr. Secretary."

Secretary of Defense John Keller looked up from his paperwork on his desk.

"Yes?"

The young man in the doorway saluted in a somewhat casual military fashion.

"Just a progress report, sir. Nothing bad."

Keller sighed knowingly, only partly able to keep himself from smiling.

"Still nothing?"

"No sir. Still nothing." The young man hesitantly mirrored his smile, knowing his news was somewhat bad.

Keller nodded vigorously.

"Well," he spoke. "It's been over a week and a half since the new ones fell."

"Yes, sir," confirmed the soldier solemnly.

The Secretary of Defense sighed again. "Obviously the Decepticons did disperse from the area. They're laying low. Real low."

He turned to the young man, gaze asking for an opinion. The soldier couldn't help but to smile somewhat again, though unhappily.

"Something bad," was all he said.

"Yeah," agreed Keller. The man laughed after a few moments, running a hand across his forehead.

"Optimus Prime says we will know when the Decepticons are about to strike. I guess all we can really do right now is trust his judgment.

"Tell your commanders to continue the search, but cut the party in half. No point in wearing those men out over a lost cause. If they were going to do something immediately, they would have done it already."

* * *

"That _really_ doesn't make any sense."

Lennox stood with one hand on a hip, the other hefting a handheld device giving off readings as he stared at the wreckage in front of him. Just a pile of ash and blackened wood from what it used to be, mostly contained within the foundation perimeter that could be made out.

"_What_ doesn't, Captain?"

Lennox turned to Epps as the man stepped over stray rubble to take a place by his side.

"The matter at _hand_. The fact that we can't _find_ anything."

Epps clapped his fellow on the back encouragingly. "Man, they aren't called _Decepticons_ for nothing."

"Epps," the other parried, determined to rant. He motioned a gloved hand over the property. "There are readings _all over_ this place. Like a Decepticon purposely made use of this house as something to cushion its planetfall—half the stuff here was completely incinerated. And yet, we can't find anything that amounts to a trail, or better yet, a Decepticon."

"Well, it's not like this just happened today," Epps proposed. "These kinds of trails disappear real fast. And this is, what, about the third time we've been back here from trying to follow 'leads'?"

"Yeah, but..." Lennox sighed, his breath curling into the cold air in front of him.

"Speaking of 'this.'" Epps looked over the property again. "How did the owners take it?"

The other sighed again, bigger. "I don't know. I wasn't the one talking to them."

Epps turned to look at the other. His tone and posture had changed. "Did...they lose something other than the house?"

"Yeah. A girl, from what I hear."

Both soldiers stood there in unanimous silence for a few moments. As they listened to the sound of plants rustling quietly in the seemingly endless cold breeze, both minds undoubtedly wandered back to their own loved ones.

Finally, Lennox sighed.

"There's nothing we can do about that obviously." He returned to his initial tone. "But it's enough to make you want to kick at least _one_ Decepticon ass before we head back."

Epps chuckled.

"We'll get something—"

"Pack it in, gentlemen."

"—unless they tell us to pack it in," Epps finished in exasperation, twisting the deadened grass beneath his heel as he turned to pick up his equipment.

Lennox extracted his small radio. Though, like Epps, he already anticipated the next words that would come from it.

"What happened?" he asked anyway.

"Top of the brass just called for a fall back," the voice over it answered. "Cut the searching in half. They especially want you guys back. A lot of work waiting on you apparently, sir."

"All well and good," he responded, his tone contrasting the remark. "Heading back."

He turned to look behind them. Past the ruin strewn path that used to be a driveway, two vehicles were parked next to the road. Though only the neon ambulance looked out of place where it sat next to the oversized black truck.

Epps returned then, and the two of them walked out to the road.

"You guys didn't pick up anything new, did you?" asked Lennox, hefting his gear into the backseat of the truck.

"My sensors didn't pick up anything noteworthy," came Ironhide's voice through the speakers.

"Nor mine," supplied Ratchet, his voice relaying through the truck's sound system as well for the sake of the humans' hearing.

"Well. Damn." Lennox shut the door once he was situated in the driver's seat, Epps doing the same in the passenger's.

It was silent for another minute, the wind outside howling as it blew past along with the scenery.

"It does. Not. Make. Sense!" Epps jumped at his fellow's spontaneous outburst. Lennox scratched his head roughly, his hand somehow retreating without a chunk of scalp. "It's like they just got up and flew...away..."

He stared blankly out of the window.

"There are those able to adapt themselves for flight among Cybertronians," Ratchet reminded considerately, as if finishing Lennox's thoughts for him. "We discussed that possibility...? We just returned to the site just now to try and find a few better readings and clues."

Silence.

Epps crescendoed in a fit of half contained laughter.

"We both know you already knew that," he chortled. "And _that_ overreaction proves that a human needs sleep and not caffeine to survive so they won't have hit and miss lapses of old age."

Lennox rubbed his forehead with a resigned smile.

"When _is_ the last time I caught up on my sleep?"

"I don't know," Epps managed. "But you need to."

"The trip back offers a window of recharge time," suggested Ironhide.

"If that is possible with _your_ driving," said Ratchet. Ironhide muttered something incoherent back.

"I might have to take you up on that anyway," said Lennox, already stretching.

"We'll wake you up if something happens," Epps offered, mirth still audible in his tone.

Lennox huffed. He twisted around to crawl into the backseat, careful about Ironhide's upholstery, allowing Epps to take the wheel.

"I would think you wouldn't have to if something did."

* * *

A/N: *is amused by thoughts of Ben frightening little children in banks*

Yes-yes, Arson gets three forms. But it comes with a catch; temporary weapons lock, anyone? (insert evil laugh here)

And so the third chap. is done!

Forced labor doesn't tend to make mechs tolerant towards witty organics. The snap comes soon...


	4. Ebullient

**

* * *

**

4. Ebullient

* * *

"Hey."

Looking towards the lockers and the voice as he exited his last class of the day, Sam smiled at the sight of the long haired, green-eyed girl.

"Hey there," he greeted back, bringing one arm down smoothly to rest on her shoulders as she joined him in walking down the hall.

Mikaela laughed, Sam delaying slightly before joining in. The boy was suddenly happy that it was sometimes hard for others to differentiate between his playful flirtations and his serious attempts at romance.

"So what are the plans for today?"

"Well," started Sam in a rebound, "I thought maybe we'd catch a movie later."

"Hmm. Sounds good," consented Mikaela. An eyebrow raised and she teased, "And by later we mean after homework is done, checked, then rechecked?"

"Oh, of course," he replied with a smirk. "It's my last year to show these high school dwellers how it's done."

Mikaela smiled back with a laugh, reaching up to rumple the boy's hair.

"Ah, my little nerd."

Sam protested the gesture as he laughed. The two jauntily continued their banter as they wove their way through the random assortment of departing students and teachers, reaching the yellow Camaro sitting in wait in the parking lot.

They each spoke their greetings to the dashboard as they got in, drawing a curious glance from a boy passing by near enough to hear.

"Alright, Bee," said Sam once he had settled in position to pose as driver. "Let's take the lady home, shall we?"

"Of course," Bumblebee said once all doors were closed. "Unless, of course, the lady would rather see the newest arrival."

"What?" Sam asked, unable to keep from smiling. "Finally got a hold of him, huh? The tracking signal from a couple of days ago?"

"That'd be the one," the Autobot confirmed.

"I'm in," smiled Mikaela, looking through the window as Bumblebee maneuvered through the throng of cars and busily chattering students. "Been a while since we've seen those guys. Meeting a new guy should be fun too."

Bumblebee chirped enthusiastically at their alacrity. "Optimus feels that he should meet other humans besides just the soldiers on base," he added. "To get a better feel for our new home."

"Okay," Sam agreed. "So who is he?"

* * *

"Autobot Salvage, Samuel Witwicky."

Sam courteously took the mech's offered finger, shaking it respectfully.

"Just Sam's cool. Salvage, huh?"

"Affirmative," nodded the Autobot, standing back up to his full height to regard the human before him. "I've heard a lot about you already, Sam."

"Just good things I hope?" Sam smiled.

"Saving our leader from the former Lord High Protector is no small task." In his voice was genuine and deeply rooted reverence.

"I just tried to do what was right," Sam dismissed.

"And I thank you for it," replied Salvage. "By the Allspark, ending this war would be far more difficult without Prime."

"I hear you there." The two looked over as Epps approached them along with Lennox, both dressed in military fatigues. "I have to admit though, Sam, we might have told Salvage here about your second-rate hygiene habits."

Sam grinned back at the man. "Oh, ha, ha. Excuse me for not having my room squeaky clean when you saw it."

The boy's eyes wandered to the other soldiers around the somewhat large room as Salvage exchanged a few words with the two soldiers. None of them were in battle ready attire, but one could be certain that not one of them was without a weapon. Be it the large sabot launchers or something smaller hidden somewhere on their individual persons. Most were standing around, engaging in quiet conversation. Some of them were gathered around a game console in the corner, intermittent jeers and shouts sounding from them. Everyone seemed quite at ease despite the two mechanoid's and one misplaced chartreuse ambulance sitting in the corner.

"You guys here all the time?" Sam asked, gesturing around at the rest of the team. "Instead of going home to your families?"

"Well," started Lennox as Salvage politely excused himself, "seems we're a big part of human-to-Autobot relations now. So the higher-ups want to keep us around. Close."

Epps shrugged where he stood beside Lennox. "The Decepticons we were supposed to have caught up in Wyoming have been pretty quiet," he added. "Not really much to do 'til they tell us what. Nothin' but to stay on alert."

The group's attention turned to Mikaela and Bumblebee as they approached.

"Where are Optimus and Ironhide?" inquired the yellow mech.

"Ironhide's on the other side fixing up the long-range scanners while Ratchet recharges," Lennox informed him, nodding through the walls in the weapons specialist's general direction. "Optimus left a couple hours ago. Didn't really say what for."

Epps leaned over to his fellow.

"Bigwigs aren't going to be _hap-py_ about that," the tech sang.

"Hmph," expressed Lennox contemptuously. "Once 'big-wigs' learn some trust and to tell the difference between 'Bots and 'Cons, _then_..."

He trailed off mid-thought, attention snapping back to Bumblebee when he realized something.

"You can't get them on the comm?"

Bumblebee nodded his head, his reassuring composure keeping the humans from panicking. "They both responded." He gestured a metal hand up at the reinforced ceiling above. "The signal dampeners installed in this building to avoid detection work really well. It's hard to find my fellow bots, despite the fact that three of them are here."

The two soldiers nodded, satisfied.

"We'll probably need 'bigwigs' to look into fixing that," voiced Lennox. "It could prove to be dangerous later."

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. His new job was proving to be tedious and exhausting. Between clean-up at and after the Mission City incident, helping organize new Autobot-to-human association headquarters, and collaborating with said higher-ups, Lennox had gotten in maybe two vacations. He pushed those thoughts aside, errant thoughts wondering of the Autobot leader's whereabouts as he stifled a yawn.

"Guess I'll go see if I can help 'Hide," voiced Epps, turning in the direction earlier indicated. "To make sure we end up with a scanner and not an overly souped-up security system."

The group waved him off with voiced agreeances, though notably only somewhat jokingly. Bumblebee even went as far as to follow the tech to offer his own assistance.

"Well. In the meantime." Lennox smiled at the teens before him. "You guys hungry? I think Epps might've missed some of the Chinese they picked up."

* * *

Ben pulled the jacket closer around her as a chilling breeze blew by, still laying on her back and gazing up at the clouds. The deadened grass pricking at her through her clothes did not bother her at all.

The boredom had clouded her mind completely.

Sure, the TV inside the modified hangar somehow got three fuzzy channels. Three channels that seemed to show nothing but sappy soap operas all the time during the day. And there were only so many times one could be in suspense over if it was Bob's or Norm's baby, and be shocked to find that Sue was really the long lost half-sister, before they completely lost interest.

Ben opted to be outside of the building rather than inside anyway. Not knowing whether or not the Busch plane that apparently used to occupy it was used for pesticides or not was a strong factor in such decision making.

She let her head fall to the side to look at the alien machine in her company.

So far, the few pieces they had recovered had been on the account of Arson's "sensors". And that was only after spending hours driving around or just sitting outside everyday. Because "The moisture in the air interferes with longer ranged scans," to put it as Arson had. Which might explain why, up until the unexpected period of rain they'd seen had stopped, the only recovered pieces had been in the woods in a less than two mile around area from their hangar.

Beneath their dirt covering, the pieces had simply looked like pieces of shrapnel to Ben. When she'd inquired of her keeper the reason as to why this "Thundercracker" couldn't simply rebuild the generator, Spark thing with a new material, she'd received a grumbled, "It only works with this material, which isn't found on this planet."

On this planet. That still somewhat blew her mind when she thought hard about it. Giant alien super advanced robots. Were they built by someone or something? Or were they living, functioning proof that silicon based organisms were a reality as well?

She still wasn't sure about that musing. He referred to her and pretty much any other living thing she knew of as "Organic." all the time, in a pretty much disdained manner. But robot or organism he may be, Arson had more than proved his sentience and therefore the probable sentience of the rest of his species in the time since the human had met him.

Which begged to question...

"So. Arson."

The human kept her tone light and friendly, but he didn't respond anyway as usual. The machine only ever uttered what it was either vital for her to hear or what seemed vital for her to hear to get her to stop bothering him. She grinned to herself before continuing.

"So, why are you of all people being forced to do the dirty work while everyone else runs around and scouts? Are you some kind of criminal being punished or something?"

Arson pointedly remained silent, continuing to focus on scans of the area. The faster done, the better. His perceptors were able to go in all directions, but they could be stretched farther if he reached them in one direction. Unfortunately, as this was to be thorough to find the generator fragments, it took more time.

The human sat up, the jacket sliding into her lap. "What kind of convict would you be?" She enunciated the words pensively. Ben looked off into the distance downhill, watching the far off trees leaning lazily in the breeze. She snorted. "Maybe your name tells all. But no, I doubt our situation would go for something so small. Maybe you're some kind of serial killer instead."

There was a short pause as she went over the options in short.

"Oh right. This war you mentioned before. You're a war criminal, aren't you? What'd you do? Runaway from Thundercracker's side in a vital moment of need? You're a lackey being re—"

Ben took a gasp of air at the unexpected impact when she hit the ground some fifteen feet from where she'd been sitting. When she opened her eyes a moment later, she found Arson kneeling over her. He pinned her down roughly with a hand before she could roll away.

Giant alien super advanced robot brandished the talons of his other hand above her, aimed at her throat.

"Despite your false sense of security that I will not, I have no encumbrance killing you, human," he rumbled in warning, truly menacingly.

The human's startled expression was replaced by a calmly smirking one.

"And I'm afraid of death, robot?" she laughed.

At this, the mechanoid bore more weight down on her with a snarl. Not a fatal amount, the organic responded by giving a wince, her gritted teeth baring slightly.

"Starscream's sentence means nothing if I must be charged with such a mordant, _inferior_ life form that is so boldly foolish."

In a perfect display of said temerity, the human glared up at the livid entity who blatantly had the advantage over her.

"Go... ahead then..," she managed to challenge despite a shortage of air.

For another moment, everything just stood still. Time itself seemed to join the hiatus as the clawed hand came blurring toward Ben.

She was surprised by this and a sudden surge of fear gripped her. In the matter of that second, her insides twisted as she stiffened and closed her eyes, a small noise escaping her.

She heard metal talons pierce into the ground on impact.

Ben didn't immediately realize that she had felt nothing. Opening her eyes, she froze midway looking down.

A claw on the metal hand was mere centimeters above from her neck. She couldn't even see the fingertip.

Taking extreme care moving her head slightly, she looked up at the owner. The metal of his face was vaguely twisted up in a recognizable, though completely foreign to her on this particular face, gesture.

He was smirking.

Arson lifted first the hand on her, then withdrawing the other after letting the talon hover at the unmoving human's fatal point for another few apparently satisfying moments.

He made a noise that could pass for a mocking laugh. "Fortunate. I'm no longer in the mood." The angry look that descended on the organic's features lightened his mood even further. He turned away from her, traveling uphill some. "You'd do well to remember your place."

With that, he converted to vehicle mode, falling silent.

* * *

On the deserted, rural road, a diesel trundled up the hill on a not exactly distinguished path.

The sight would have been odd to anyone looking on. That would be, if any unfortunate soul were to get lost this far out from any sign of active sedentary civilization at all, and then happen to catch the vague silhouette of the big rig as it crested the hill, or caught a glint of its metal skin as it passed in the nearly nonexistent moonlight. The truck's noises were unusually quite for a vehicle of its size as well, adding to the eeriness.

The diesel paused as it came up to the door of the old, misused loading dock on the factory's side. When the large entrance was wide enough, the truck rolled through slowly.

"Finally decided to haul in, huh?"

Optimus was surprised to be greeted by a voice as the door leisurely slid shut behind him. Perceptors scanned the darkness off to his right, picking up the human stretching in front of the chair where he'd apparently been sitting on a raised platform next to the loading docks.

The diesel dissolved some of the darkness with its fog lights before unfolding itself. The mechanoid knelt down closer.

"Captain Lennox? Has something happened?"

Lennox rubbed one eye as the other regarded the larger being before him, thankful that Optimus had not decided to whip out anything stronger than fog lights.

"No, nothing we know of here at the moment at least." He stifled a yawn. "I just took over this night shift so I could wait for you to get back."

Optimus nodded his understanding. "I apologize for negating your recharge, Captain."

Lennox waved him off. "Worse things have happened, you know?" One hand went to a hip as he examined the Autobot leader. Flame adorned armor was as pristine as he'd last seen it, no sign of rough play. He hoped that meant that the mechanoid hadn't used enough energy at once for any satellite pointed in the area to pick up. All he needed was the higher-ups on his back for petty issues.

"So what's up? Just needed some time away, huh?"

Optimus turned his head to examine the darkness above Lennox's head to the left. "A leisure that is hard to come by. This world never ceases to fascinate with its wonders."

Lennox met blue optics again, the Autobot's look serious.

"Though I must confess, Captain, that I did run across a pair of Cybertronian signals for a brief moment."

The soldier gave a soft, humorless laugh, a hand touching the top of his own head.

"They seemed to have been drone in origin," Optimus continued. "And if I know the Decepticons, they will have moved by now. In either instance, I believe they pose no immediate threat."

"We should check it out," proposed Lennox.

"As I nearly did." In the dim light, Lennox thought he saw the metal face smile slightly. Though he couldn't be sure. It was hard to tell such nuances in even normal lighting. "I don't think Ratchet would have approved should I have sustained serious injury due to recklessness."

"Can't argue with you there," Lennox snorted. "But I am glad you waited. You might've needed back up."

Optimus nodded. "We will gather and go in the morning."

"Hate to break it to you, big guy," the soldier started, looking down and pressing a button on his wristwatch. The glowing display shone nearly an hour and a half after midnight. "But it technically _is_ morning."

Optimus held out a hand, gesturing at Lennox's body.

"I doubt you will do much good in recon or possible combat in your current state, Captain," the Autobot pointed out amicably.

Lennox sighed, blinking at the floor. "Right."

* * *

A/N: And we finally get back to the action next! As is the plan right now, every chapter here on in will be actiony.

And any bots I use (aside from the OC, of course) come from the prequel comics and novel for TF2. I tentatively say that this story kind of fits into the timeline after Alliance #2 but before The Veiled Threat. Just a fun factoid.


	5. Vicissitudes

**

* * *

**

5. Vicissitudes

* * *

Arson ignored her and didn't bother to look in the human's direction when Ben's signal came back into the room.

It was early morning now, the light outside still blue as the sun made its way up to break the horizon. Ben had hardly gotten any sleep at all the previous night. But as she had hardly registered as apprehensive, the mechanoid paid it no mind. She had spent almost the entire night staring inanely up at the ceiling.

After another minute of a surreal complete silence instead of the squeak of the bed's springs he expected to hear as the human laid back down, he forced himself to look up to save himself the trouble of having to deal with whatever irritation she was about to cause.

She was sitting almost in the middle of the room, close to where he was seated against the wall. Her expression was scrutinizing, her forehead slightly creased in thoughtfulness as she stared at him. When she caught his gaze however, a slight, hesitant grin slid slowly onto her features.

He held her gaze in turn, his own facade passive and unattached.

"Can I...talk to you?"

Arson's eyes narrowed to slits infinitesimally, suspicion and irritability clear.

"You wait for _permission_ now?" he spurred.

The human made a slight laugh, her head falling.

"Well...I just wanted to say..."

He continued to regard her through the pause, watching as the smile slid away slightly and her finger began to scratch at something on the floor.

Finally she sighed, the words pouring out. "Maybe I haven't been completely fair. Being thrown head first into a world that I didn't believe existed from a rough life just barely gives me some excuse—" she shrugged—"And I can't help the way I decided to cope. You've been pretty fair with me, and I guess you've been kinda nice—even though that's probably just because you hardly ever actually talk. So that's not to say you're not or can't be aggressive.

"Anyways, point is..."

She lifted her head slightly to look up at him through her eyelashes, a hint of the initial grin back in place.

"I'm sorry for being a jerk."

They stared at each other in nearly a full minute of silence. Arson snorted and turned away from her then, face still as cold and impassive, as if carved from stone.

This apparently satisfied the human, however. She stood up easily then, making her way back through the door.

* * *

"How many do you think there are?"

Lennox shrugged where he was standing outside of Ironhide's cab, gathering his gear, weapon and rounds from inside. Epps was on the other side doing the same.

"There's no way to tell for sure. Maybe just the two. Maybe two-hundred."

"Hopefully just the two," Epps put in.

Lennox agreed, carefully hanging his launcher on his back next to his bag of gear.

"Even in that happy but unlikely case," the captain gave pause to sigh. "We know we still have at least a minimum of four Decepticons here on Earth to deal with at present. Excluding the drones."

"Which will make at least three times as many more," came Ironhide's gruff voice as the two soldiers stepped away from him.

Lennox nodded. He turned to the big-rig idling beside them.

"This is the area?"

The engine upped in timbre some. "Yes. It was in passing that I detected them, but the signals originated from around here."

Epps shaded his eyes against the evening sun, looking out across the plain of tall, deadend grass. They had traveled for hours to get here. Dust whipped up into the air in the distance, traveling toward one of the nearby mountains that surrounded the field. A tarn was visible in the distance, its water eerily still.

"Well. Let's start looking, then. Hopefully we'll get something today."

"Found something already."

The group turned to see Salvage standing nearby, his metal finger shining in the sun as he pointed at the ground.

Ironhide transformed when he reached the smaller Autobot. He knelt down to place his fingers at the edge of the indentation on the ground in the spot of moist dirt in the otherwise dry, packed ground.

"Footprint?" Lennox inquired once he was close enough to see it.

Ironhide nodded with a snort. "Beta class drone from the looks of it." He stood up, the barrel of one of his massive cannons spinning in anticipation. "They should be easy to offline."

The Autobots had already explained the drone classes to the humans. The beta class, while the tougher fighters, were the non-flyers. The alphas were a different story. As such, they could promptly and easily agree that a beta class would cause them far less grief than an alpha class.

Salvage was watching Ironhide, intrigued. "Where do you think it went?"

"_I'm_ thinking..."

Once he had their attention, Epps pointed to the tip of the print with his hand, motioning forward and off in the distance in a straight line. At the end of the imaginary guide sat one of the surrounding mountains, a large opening in its side distinguishing it from the rest. Old, rusted beams of some kind laid next to the entrance in testament to its age and neglect.

"Like an arrow," Lennox snorted.

"Drones." Ironhide shook his head, starting off towards the tunnel. "Ninety-nine percent brawn, one percent brain."

* * *

"So, uh..."

Ben didn't bother to close the door behind her as she got out of the truck's cab, stepping away as it reshaped itself.

"Why are we in the middle of nowhere? In the mountains?"

She looked up at the mechanoid, following him as he began to walk over the rocky terrain.

"The signal originates from out here. The drones couldn't detect it well, and neither can I. It is probably plutonic."

"Whoa! Wait." Ben held up her hands as Arson stopped and stared at her. "Nobody said anything about radioactive explosive stuff. I am 'just organic,' in your terms, remember?"

He paused for only a moment before giving a hissing noise akin to a degrading sigh.

"There's no _plutonium_ involved, organic. _Plutonic_." He pointed a claw at the ground. "Subterranean."

"...Oh." Ben grinned only somewhat sheepishly as her mechanical companion rolled his eyes—a gesture he was apparently fond of. "Right."

She curiously looked over nearby as something caught her eye.

"That would explain the gaping hole, then?"

Arson rumbled in confirmation as Ben walked forward cautiously. "There appear to be chambers of some sort beneath our location," he reaffirmed after a short pause.

She got to her knees carefully as she tested the footing around the chasm, leaning over to peer down it. Blackness was all her eyes met. A dank smell rose from the depths.

"Um, Arson? We aren't by any chance getting into the mine or whatever's really there by going _down this hole_, are we?"

In answer, when Ben looked up at the noise of transformation, the metal dragon was standing at her side. He bowed so that his neck was beside her.

She gave a nervous laugh, standing up.

"You know, there _probably are_ other ways we can get in there. _Easier_ ways..."

* * *

Epps whistled appreciatively up at the reinforced ceiling high above, the minerals at his feet crunching as he stepped with his boots.

"_Man_, this place is huge."

Lennox inarguably agreed. "People who worked here got pretty good post-to-post pay, that's for sure."

The mine appeared to have been used years before, and from the looks of it so far, had possibly been closed due a depletion of the precious minerals that had been dug up. Or another reason, as small chunks of coal littered the ground everywhere. Probable environmentalist related reasons.

Lennox turned to look over his shoulder. Optimus was rolling along behind the two humans, along with Ironhide and Salvage. The random dips of the cavern roof made walking in their bipedal forms difficult at some places and impossible at still others. The industrial mine seemed to have been simply an expansion of an already existing large cave, as some of the chambers through which they had traversed had ancient looking stalactite hanging down from above.

The humans chose to walk instead of ride, the possibility of a Decepticon ambush always a very real threat, as that was what they were there searching for. Besides that, they could be more efficient in observations when they were on foot than they could in a vehicle. The Autobots' headlights combined was more than enough light that the pair needed to see in the pitch darkness.

"You guys see anything suspicious that could be of interest?" Lennox asked.

"Nothing yet, Captain," Optimus answered him.

"Well, I know what I see." Epps looked warily up at the ceiling and walls of the cavern. "I see a whole lot of rocks and stuff waiting to come crashing down."

"Yeah. _That_ means no loud sounds." Lennox turned to single out his fellow human in company with a look.

"You know that's practically a myt—" The sergeant stopped his sentence short when he noticed the look. Epps looked at the other with mock hurt written on his features, bringing a hand up to rest fingertips on his own chest.

"Man, why you lookin' at _me_?"

Lennox rolled his eyes, adjusting the sabot launcher's position where it was draped across his back.

"You know how you get when you're worked up about something."

"Agreed," consented Ironhide's voice from behind them just as Epps was opening his mouth to protest. "Quite vociferous."

Epps looked back at the truck, unable to quell a grin from overtaking his facade.

"You're one to talk. I'm thinking half the weapons in your arsenal are way louder than I can be."

Ironhide rumbled amicably. "Maybe. You put up quite a competition, regardless."

* * *

Ben stared at the pile of rocks being illuminated, completely blocking the path ahead.

"Seriously? It's past there, isn't it?" she asked the little radar she held, as if it would respond. She sighed, barely stopping herself from running a hand down her face when she remembered the dirt and who knew what else smudged on it.

She had been walking for what seemed like hours. Arson had sent her on ahead through the human-sized tunnel they came to after trotting around the mine for a while, the mechanoid remaining behind in the large chamber.

Ben pointed the light up the wall. It surprised her to see stacks of boulders peeking over what appeared to be almost a cliff-like shelf high above. Some of the rocks were precariously perched on the edge, one shake sure to dislodge them.

Obviously, the miners had worked up there, and not in this ridge. This must have been some kind of drainage canal to keep the place from flooding.

Another sigh escaped her and she walked forward to the piled obstruction, lifting a small boulder to start.

"It always comes down to elbowgrease..."

It didn't take very long for her to make a hole all the way to the other side large enough to fit through. The process of lifting and moving the multiple heavy stones left her arms tired and sore and her breathing at an increased rate.

This suddenly struck her with thoughts of oxygen levels. The deeper in a mine, the less of it there was to be had if not properly ventilated, as she recalled. _That_ must've been why she was so short of breath.

She paused and listened to herself take a deep breath, as if expecting for a full mass of chokedamp to hit her right then.

An irked groan escaped her. Of course Arson wouldn't mention that. Now she had a reason to hurry back.

* * *

"Hold on."

The two soldiers turned to see the diesel unfolding itself, Optimus already gazing intently at something over to the side on the cavern floor. Walking over, he knelt and picked it up.

"What is it?" Lennox asked as he looked up around the tallest Autobot's flank.

Optimus turned the object of interest over in his hand, still gazing at it intently.

"While I'm not sure exactly what it _is_, Captain, I'm fairly certain that this ore is not indigenous to this planet."

Ironhide came beside him then, ducking under a dip in the cavern's ceiling as he approached. He scanned the object in his leader's hand intently for a few moments.

"A Cybertronian ore," he said, slight incredulity coloring his tone. "Out here?"

Lennox squinted up toward the ceiling. Light was spilling in through a fairly sized hole there.

Epps tilted his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. "It almost looks like a broken piece of something," input the human tech. Salvage nodded in agreement beside him.

Optimus nodded as well. Indeed, the object in question did look like shrapnel from the exoskeleton of some kind of device. But what? And why was it here?

He pondered this in length as he stood up carefully, keeping tabs on the amount of space he had to move around at all times.

"Well, well. Thanks for finding that for me, Prime."

Optimus looked up, watching the red visor emerging from the darkness ahead of them. A red orb belonging to separate beings followed on either side.

"Stockade," Ironhide growled, shooing the humans to cover as he primed his weaponry.

The Autobot leader put himself squarely and defensively in front of the group, feet spreading in a more stable and battle-ready stance.

"What business do you have with this? You know what it is?"

Stockade shrugged nonchalantly, casually bringing a weapon to bear on his arm. He ran his fingers over it almost lovingly as he inspected it.

"A Cybertronian ore is a Cybertronian ore," he said. "So I'll be taking it, if you will..."

Ironhide trained a cannon on the Decepticon as he dared to take a step towards Optimus. "You're a brave one, daring to challenge the Prime and his group with only two drones at your aid."

Stockade cackled, lifting his free hand above him palm-up in a presenting way.

"Oh, not to worry, weapons master. You will have more than your fair share to handle."

Five more drones came out of the shadows behind him like ghosts, running past and towards Ironhide.

"Melee weapons only," Optimus warned as he stepped in closer to the black mechanoid. "Unless you're sure the shot will connect."

Ironhide nodded curtly in acknowledgement, his weaponry still locked on one of the drones. He let a missile-like device go.

It connected precisely with the center of its target's chest. The drone halted in its charge with its fellows, staring dumbly down at it. The device spontaneously expanded, the sharp crack of metal splintering sounding for a moment. There was a flash vaguely viewable in the drone's chest from the device before it gave one screech. Its chest burst into a brightly colored flame before it staggered and fell with a crash.

Optimus gave Ironhide a nod as well before turning to face the oncoming fight. He stowed the piece of metal away on his form as his battle mask and sword slid into place.

From their cover nearby, Lennox took inventory of the opposition. Subtracting the drone Ironhide had offlined in the offset, there were four more beta class drones left. Then there were the two he assumed to be alpha class—they looked different than the rest and had wings—and Stockade.

"I hope we don't have to find anywhere else to take cover," pointed out Epps as he helped to load Lennox's sabot launcher with an armor piercing round.

Lennox looked around at the other's observation too. Their little rock was indeed the only bit of cover within a short sprinting distance. He could see other places, but the time it would take to get to those would give more than enough time to be stepped on or otherwise maimed.

He turned back to watch the brawl in progress. "Let's hope that issue won't come up."

Already, Optimus had taken out one more of the drones. Even as Lennox spoke, he watched one of the alpha class drones jump up and grab onto the Autobot leader's back. As Optimus tried to throw him off with his non-converted hand, a beta class came forward to hard-press him.

Lennox leveled the launcher at the drone, taking careful aim.

He had to wait for a time, however, as Salvage kept unintentionally dancing into harm's way. The smallest Autobot had the other alpha to deal with, which despite his small size, he was handling well. Salvage shot again at the larger drone, promptly following up with a tackle. They staggered together, and though the two human soldiers couldn't see what the Autobot did, the drone screeched and fell to the chamber floor with a crash when he was released, sparks emitting from his chest.

Stockade had kept his word to Ironhide. The Decepticon had enlisted the help of two of the drones to give the weapons specialist all that he could handle in the limited space of the mine.

"It will give me no small pleasure to rip the Spark chamber out of your lifeless shell, Autobot," Stockade taunted.

"That will be difficult, as I have no plans to cease functioning before the end of this fight." Ironhide shoved Stockade away, showing the other uses of his cannons as he bludgeoned the nearest drone over the head with it.

Lennox finally got a shot off at the beta drone assaulting the Prime—it connected directly with its knee joint, Optimus promptly breaching its Spark chamber with one thrust as it fell—when he noticed Salvage again.

The mechanoid was still holding his own, the drone with far more injuries than himself. Salvage connected a punch to its face and a kick hard enough to its flank to cause it to stagger.

Lennox didn't know for sure if drones felt emotion, but that seemed to set the winged mechanoid off. It hissed loudly, dodging in close enough to grab Salvage by the shoulders.

It spun and flung the small Autobot as hard as it could, falling to the ground with a heavy thud. Salvage hit the wall with a deafening crack.

The two humans saw it coming before any of their other allies. They watched in what seemed like slow motion as one precariously place boulder dislodged from the wall high above. As it was supporting the mass of earth and rock above it, it all inevitably began to shift and move.

Epps shot up standing and shouted in warning before he could stop himself.

"Salvage! _Salvage, MOVE!_"

Salvage looked towards them, his attention promptly diverted by the loud crack that sounded to his left as the boulder hit the stone floor. His head snapped upwards, the mechanoid already starting forward.

The rest of the beings saw the avalanche then too, all combat frozen. One of the drones sent rapid-fire shots up into the mass of falling stones. This succeeded in decimating some, but knocked twice as much debris from the unstable wall.

"Pull back!" shouted Optimus to his group. He deactivated the Decepticon drone still firing at the wall with one shot from his cannon. He grabbed the drone still clinging to his form. Giving a mighty heave, he wrenched it off, flinging it back towards its burial.

He watched Ironhide let one last barrage off at Stockade as he ran towards him before folding down into the black truck. The Autobot leader followed suit, starting to run towards their escape before converting to the diesel. He could see the humans with Salvage speeding just up ahead, crouched in the smaller Autobot's berth as they stared back.

It seemed that the structure had been waiting to collapse for a while, the entire ceiling going. The rocks' assault was slowly falling behind the group when the Decepticon assault, on the other hand, continued in the form of a missile just barely missing Optimus.

"_Come on!_" voiced Epps loudly in exasperated irritation as the unfamiliar vehicles came into sight. One of the hoods had splayed to reveal weaponry.

"Damn Decepticon idiots are gonna get us _all_ buried in here," hissed Lennox over the wind. He used Salvage's tailgate to help carefully aim the launcher at the military humvee—he presumed Stockade—as it made its way up to Optimus Prime's side.

The sabot round hit Stockade's headlight just before he had a chance to engage the Autobot leader. The humans heard a series of irritated electronic squeaks and squeals from the humvee as it careened, falling back.

It abruptly forked off to a chamber on the other side of the wall that continued on to their exit, putting him out of sight. The remaining drones tried to follow, only partially successful. They witnessed one succumb to the rock and dirt when it was too slow in trying.

* * *

Ben was still breathing heavily by the time she made it back.

Her eyes looked up at the top edge of one of the walls that enclosed the trench. It was at least three feet above her head at its lowest point, and as she stretched her worn out arms and flexed her fingers, she realized that this had just gotten more difficult than it originally had been.

She reached to her side and pulled out the metal object she had retrieved. Since it didn't fit securely into her pocket, she was sure it would fall out and back down into the trench as she tried to get out if she left it there.

The device spiraled easily around her wrist when she put it there, attracted to itself with a weak, almost magnetic pull. Ben ignored the by now familiar tingling sensation it caused her skin.

She jumped and grabbed the ledge with her right hand. Her left hand automatically came to assist a moment after, but too late. The damp dirt that covered the top of the roughly carved stone shifted, and she lost what little purchase she had on the ledge.

She made an ungraceful fall back down all the way onto her back.

Ben groaned, lying there and just breathing in the air for a few moments, wishing for a shower more than she ever had. As she pulled herself to her feet with the sound of dirt being dragged underfoot on stone, she pettishly scoffed Arson's probable humor over her fall.

The maroon mechanoid across the chamber, however, had other things occupying his thought processors. As he had neglected to even monitor her position, he wasn't even aware of her proximity until her second attempt.

He noticed her hastily shift her hold when her hands came into view on the ledge. It was of no concern to him. He barely paid her any mind, staying where he was laying as he waited for her to climb up so they could conclude and be on their way.

Ben lifted her head, panting to some extent. Her vision swam slightly for a moment.

_Great._

She groped with one of her hands and managed to find a spot cleared of dirt, the cold hard stone meeting her fingers. She got a grip on the somewhat smooth surface just as her other hand lost purchase again. Her hold finally firm, she braced herself and tried to pull up as hard as she could. Her shoes just slid down the stone wall whenever she tried to use her legs to help.

Her worn out muscles trembled and burned with the effort they were too tired to put forth. An involuntary terse whining noise escaped her as she painfully relaxed her arms, simply hanging from the ledge. She didn't even bother asking for her keeper's assistance, not expecting him to even think of such a prospect. As if jumping down a dark, one-hundred-something-foot hole wasn't payback enough...

Arson began to grow impatient with the human when he saw this. He lifted his head and growled irritably, revving a little from his chassis.

If this organic was _teasing _him...

Before he could analyze the motive behind the human's frustrating behavior, however, he noticed a tremor increasing.

He stopped his impatient growls, still finding the tremors to be extrinsic to his own systems. Fully distracted from his charge, he tracked and found where the source was coming from.

The tunnel. He could hear it: rocks and earth, dropping down.

Arson stood to his feet. She still wasn't up. What was the human playing at? Surely she heard the approaching destruction?

As the avalanche of rock and earth rapidly thundered ever nearer, Arson was finally convinced that there was something wrong with the human, one way or another.

Accelerating towards her in a run, he transformed into bipedal form. He kept his momentum in a forward leap, flowing into roll, flinging his arm over the ledge, claws smashing into the wall around the human. He immediately clenched her with his fingers below the talons and rolled back away from the ledge, adroitly getting up and bounding behind a large rock jutting up from the stone floor.

Ben against his armored chest, Arson kept scanners keen on the falling debris knocking into the back of his hiding place as he awaited its end.

The train of rocks steadily crashed down until its rattling finally settled and could no longer be heard. Dust filled the air all around.

Before he so much as took a step, systems went haywire.

Arson was stunned as he suddenly lost control of his own body. He collapsed, managing to turn around so that he fell on his back with the loud clatter of metal components reverberating off of the walls. A sudden, unexpected throe caused a surprised mechanical squeal of pain to escape his vocalizer. It also made the mechanoid aware that the source of the violent surges was _outside_ his body.

Scanners still malfunctioning to an incredible degree, Arson managed to lift his head long enough to get a basic visual of the miniscule weight he could just barely feel on his chest plating.

He quickly found the source.

The human was there, seemingly straining to stand up straight. Looking closer, he saw in confusion that it seemed that her wrist was stuck to him. What appeared to be a metal tread belt was spiraled around it. Arson found that _this_ was where the energy was coming from.

The generator piece. It had to be. An energy belt from what he could see of it.

It seemed Ben was utilizing all of the strength that she could muster in trying to remove the device from its contact with his metal skin. When he tried to move, his body didn't respond at all. The foreign current, however, flared with another paralyzing and searing sensation through his circuits.

Arson had no choice but to endure it, as there was no way he could cut off neural feedback from his _entire_ body all at once—partly because the surges were making it nearly impossible to do anything. He muted his vocalizer as much as he could, cutting another noise short. His chassis still rumbled with growls.

Ben continued to try and push away from the mechanoid beneath her. But it was no good. It was as if the piece of metal around her wrist had turned into an extremely strong magnet. And obviously it wasn't doing him any good.

She started pulling even harder than she knew she could, feeling the strength in her legs depleting already.

But it paid off quickly. _Like_ a magnet, the device parted from his skin abruptly, but still tried to pull back. She reflexively slipped a foot under it, successfully keeping it from reaching Arson's body again. Concentrating her strength, she gave it a sharp, full body tug.

Somehow that did it. Ben hardly felt the impact of falling down to the floor, managing a controlled roll when she hit the ground.

As she stood and hastily made distance from Arson into the darkness, grappling with the belt that had spiraled around and attached itself to her wrist, a strange feeling seemed to singe her skin around it to a more alarming degree.

Hardly after she had time to take this in, every ounce of blood in her body felt as if it was stinging her. Like the feeling of blood slowly coming back into an appendage after circulation had been cut off to it. Only the feeling didn't ebb away. She hissed air through her teeth as her head began to throb violently, still trying to pry the belt from her wrist.

It didn't help that the pain was slowly but surely increasing. Ben found herself sinking down to the floor as her body seemed to become heavier, on her side before she could do anything about it. Her ears began ringing in an unexpected tetany, increasing to near deafening levels. She couldn't groan, couldn't move as complete darkness slowly descended over her vision as well. Her breath was slowly cut off as she felt herself become still heavier.

Then Arson was there. He grasped both ends of the device and easily pulled the belt off of her wrist. He grabbed a nearby rock, using its weight to hold the belt to the ground and pull his hands away, just as the charges started again. The surge racking through his frame, he collapsed to a knee.

Arson watched as his charge's pulse settled from the erratic one it had warped to as he straightened up, systems finally stabilizing enough for him to do so.

He looked on as Ben breathed heavily where she lay. He focused on her, scanning her form. She seemed to be largely undamaged, just a few scrapes and some bruises. Her face vaguely conveyed pain and discomfort, though he couldn't tell if she was asleep or otherwise.

He stared down at her for a long time, something of a mix of pensive anger, frustration, and irritation touching his countenance.

* * *

A/N: And we've reached what would count as the halfway-through point for this story if the next chapters weren't as huge as they're looking already.

Gotten a lot of writing done on random parts of the story these past few days. But, to be honest here; through a combination of my erratic internet connection, an again busy life, and other stuff, I probably won't get the next chapter up any sooner. Meh heh.

Also, should have a pic for this story up on deviantART (homepage link in my profile) as soon as I can beat said internet connection into submission long enough to upload something like that. Sigh.

Everything about that chapter took forever. I'm gonna go pass out now...


	6. Rapine

**6. Rapine**

* * *

"It's a Cybertronian ore," Ratchet spoke, turning the scrap over in his fingers. "Exceptionally rare for this planet. Your scientists have yet to discover it. Have yet to manage to conceive it, rather."

Epps and Lennox kept their eyes locked on the scrap as if expecting it to try and escape as the chartreuse mechanoid continued to examine it. "Okay, so assuming that the Decepticons are pinching resources since they have no immediately reliable way to get back to Cybertron–that we know of at least, what could they use it for?"

"Its similar in makeup to our bodies, but somewhat different in the way it was tempered, as it was used for building things."

"Building things? That can't be good..."

"There are Energon traces on this," Ratchet continued, a lens device flipping out and down over one of his optics. "Which could simply mean it was nearby during a fight. Or its function, among many things, could have been part of a generator."

"A generator?"

"Mm," Ratchet nodded, lifting the scrap above his eyelevel as he turned it. "But then, that in and of itself still leaves a broad spectrum to choose as to its purpose when it comes to _our_ technology. Nearly everything on Cybertron came into contact with Energon. In that respect, it's the equivalent of your species electrical power. While in the same respect, it is nowhere near the same; it flows through our very veins."

"Like having blood running through..._buildings _and stuff," Epps speculated.

Salani, passing by and stopped to listen long enough to hear the last statement, shivered jokingly. Then he laughed. "_We all float down here_."

"-Man, don't _do_ that," Epps returned, pointing a warning finger in Salani's face. The soldier snickered, holding up his hands innocently.

Looking on, Lennox shook his head at the noncoms with his arms crossed. "Stop messing around, you two."

Lennox turned back to Ratchet as Salani muttered something about the captain being no fun as if he wasn't standing right next to him. "So what of the Decepticons? Down in the mines?"

"Stockade was the only Decepticon we engaged, aside from the drones of course," volunteered Salvage from where he'd been watching Ratchet as well—mindfully out of the medic's 'I'm _working_ here' wrath zone. "Though I did briefly detect another energy signature from within the mines belonging to neither he nor the drones as we made our departure."

"Are 'Hide and Optimus still out there?"

"It would seem so. They've yet to detect anything but a few indigenous creatures leaving the mines, however."

"Hm. Maybe the 'Cons are down for the count for once," Epps thought aloud.

But Lennox shot him down. "Doubtful. They just _don't _die, remember?"

"See, look at him. He's all crotchety and down-putting and—"

"—You have work to be doing _somewhere—Go_," Lennox cut Salani off, unable to keep the smile from cracking his facade. "And get back in your shell, while you're at it."

"Yes, Captain Lennox, _sir!_," Salani saluted with a laugh as he made his departure. "Or is it 'Major' yet?" he teased.

* * *

Ben came back through the portal that led to the small kitchen, more than ready to sleep. She wore her sweats—a name she was _really _starting to loathe, as she still shivered through the nights nowhere _near _sweating despite them; a shivering that gave a rather unpleasant burning feeling to her still-sore-from-the-events-nearly-two-days-before-body.

Still, as she sat on the bed to straighten the covers more before she laid down, she gave a sidelong glance at Arson. He had been so eerily unmoving where he was sitting when she'd gone to ready for bed, and still was now. Only, now he sat there _glaring_ at the wall ahead of him with such an intensity, she was surprised it didn't burst into flame.

She observed said wall; it seemed in need of a cleaning, but innocent enough. And she couldn't _hear_ anything that could suggest that something that wasn't supposed to be was on the other side of it. So...

"...um," she tried, glancing cautiously between he and the wall. "What, uh...?—"

"It would seem that 'we' failed to retrieve the other piece that was detected in the mine."

Ben snorted. Other piece? "I presume this has something to do with whatever's behind the emphasis on '_we_'?" she air quoted. Tentatively; their 'unwilling participant with unwilling drudge' relationship had merely eased, not dissipated.

Arson rumbled, though Ben could tell for once that it wasn't meant for her.

"There were multiple shards in the mines; perhaps what used to be a single piece that subdivided. That scrap was Stockade's responsibility to retrieve," he growled. "But it would seem that the blame for its loss has been placed on me. He most likely took credit for the piece that we retrieved. Or—The more likely conjunction, _and—_put the blame for his failure on us."

The human tilted her head. Regathering these materials seemed simple enough; find it, pick it up, go home. So... "And what, may I ask, exactly caused his failure?"

He answered in one word, a word as mysterious to Ben as it was terse.

"Autobots."

"...Autobots?" she questioned the title when he didn't clarify.

"_I _believe the Decepticon found the piece, was getting ready to depart when he one way or another detected the Autobots' presence. Knowing Stockade's nature, he left the piece completely or planted it—the most likely option—for the Autobots to find so he would have an excuse to engage them."

It occurred to her there was a question she'd never bothered to really get an answer to. Something that now that she realized she hadn't asked, slapped her in the face for not doing so sooner and made her forget about her previous query that had gone unanswered as the mechanoid had continued to rant.

"What do they need a generator for anyway?"

Arson turned a look down at her, eye ridges lowering as if the answer should be obvious.

"The generator contains the potential to very near infinitely empower anything—with a surplus of energy. It obviously does not function properly unless it is whole, and it would seem that so too does its power slowly slip away. Like a crack causing a liquid container to leak."

"Okay," Ben confirmed, deciding to try and press on while the mechanoid was still seemingly heatedly venting enough and in the mood to actually answer her, "but what's so special about the energy this generator contains as opposed to, I don't know, the electrical energy we humans use?"

"With the generator, they could power anything they want—including charging one of their ships—much more efficiently, and without that power consumption being detected as easily as it could be were they to utilize your kind's power grid instead. Plus, it's to their advantage, as the type of energy that the generator apparently still contains is far more volatile than your electrical energy."

"Which is?"

He looked off into the distance, a hand coming up seemingly absentmindedly to rest for a moment on his chest plating. "Our Sparks."

Ben stared at him. Within her brain, she amazingly found that the pieces clicked together quite easily and quickly mere moments later with a sickening shock.

_Spark_ casing.

"_Sparks_? That thing has you guys' _Sparks_ in it?"

"Those of the now deceased, yes," Arson half nodded.

The human continued to gawk. She had already gotten the 'your kind's feeble life force isn't even _comparable _to that of my kind' followed by a list of reasons why from him in an irritated moment of '_Gah_, stupid human...' A heart, a mind, a soul: all in one, from what she'd gathered. She tried to wrap her brain around the entire thing. "Wha...How is that even _possible_? You guys know how to suck out and _keep_ each other's _souls_ for _energy_now?" Great, now she couldn't shake the image of cartoonish mourn-faced Halloween ghosts circling inside a glass globe, a stream of electricity between two spiraling antennae on top... Or maybe a water wheel in Styx or something.

Arson shook his head, eyes still distant as his advanced mind was obviously running on more than one track now. "_I'm_ not even sure how Starscream achieved it. But...somehow...he did. Apparently without the Autobots' knowledge either."

"There you go again," said Ben. "'Autobots.' What—"

She stared at him.

"_They're_ the '_good guys_,' aren't they?" The human didn't even bother to give him a chance to answer, palming her face. "Decepti— Oh, _now_ I've been turned into a criminal. Figures it happened with space robots..."

At this, the amethyst mechanoid cocked his head at her, curiosity growing to irritating levels until it forced its way out.

"Criminal...?"

Ben answered in a sigh without moving.

"If I fit any of my stereotypes that the media gives, I would have been one before I even met you with _my _tossed around life. Or at least a runaway gang member—" She flapped her hand, shaking her head as she lifted it. "Doesn't matter—That's not what we're talking about," she re-tracked as Arson suggested that she'd become suicidal instead. "A generator...that uses _Sparks..._?"

Arson nodded, eyes going distant again. "The generator apparently had multiple Sparks in it. And the belt piece you retrieved had _maybe_ merely one in it, yet it caused so much... It would appear that the Spark tried to overtake my body." He squinted, remembering, analyzing. "And yours as well. Due to the residual material in your veins able to conduct it. Not unlike...what you humans refer to as a ghost, looking for a vessel to posses.

"Then, with _multiple _Sparks more than capable of having the same effect, _how_ are they planning to utilize that energy to power something they control...?" She could have sworn she saw Arson smirk slightly as he continued to muse aloud. "Since Starscream's original ill-fated plan fell through, I doubt _they've _even figured that out themselves yet."

Ben couldn't help but to cross her arms at that point and stake him with a look.

"So you don't find anything about helping them restore this _Spark sucking_ thing the _least_ bit wrong?"

The human got the impression that she had stumbled across and poked through a breach in his cold, calculating exterior as she watched antennae lay back some, facade going solemn and his eyes narrowing at the floor thoughtfully. "It's dangerous, of course. But I have serious doubt they'll be able to utilize its power in anyway that is wholly harmful to anyone but themselves." His tone went down a key in volume. "I want nothing more than to be left alone from this war. And this is the only way I see to do it."

After a beat of silence, Ben sighed as she was confused by a rush of disapproval and empathy at the same time.

"_Decepticons_." She made a noise of frustration. "_Deceivobots_. Autobots, _Aggracons_," she growled, rolling over as she laid down to have her back to the mechanoid. Well, there was no harm in helping the 'Decepticons' hurt themselves. She and Arson were just going on recovery missions anyway, right?

Though his reaction did cite one more question she hoped to get in.

"You know, you don't exactly seem thrilled to be here either."

The claret mechanoid made a sort of revving that the human interpreted as a snort of sorts.

"Not precisely."

"So," she asked. Again, tentatively; she still remembered what had happened the _last_ time she had inquired about his place in all of this. "Why aren't you as hellbent on sucking out Sparks and—apparently from my predicament—enslaving the already messed up world as the rest of the Decepticons?"

His eyes narrowed where they still seemed to be gazing past the wall. "I could care less about your trivial mudball," groused Arson.

"Why?" reiterated the human with a laugh, sitting up again.

"Because I'm not."

She cocked her head at him from where she was seated with a slight laugh, determined to continue following him as he beat around the bush.

"Not? Not what?"

And with that, the mechanoid rumbled, standing slightly as he transformed. The now-quadruped didn't bother to move all the way back to his usual corner as he laid down heavily, making a sort of purring sound that could easily be a parallel of snoring. Ben resignedly smirked lightly at him, disappointed; but apparently she had finally run the meter out. She let him alone though, easily seeing herself doing something of the same thing when put in an interrogation that didn't want to be dealt with. Though it was more humorous in the case of an alien robot who only seemed to 'sleep' when he chose to put himself into that mode. Whatever counted as death for them excluded, of course.

Reaching for and flicking the light switch off, she let herself slink down prone under the covers from allowing the book shelf acting as her bed headboard to support her back. She rubbed her sore arm in anticipation, not looking forward to another cold night.

* * *

Ratchet couldn't pull himself away from the scrap for the rest of the day. The traces of Energon... Something told him there was more to its purpose. Still, despite his samplings, tests, and micro studies, he couldn't shake the feeling that _something_, was deluding him.

Regardless, at the end of the night, he managed to snuff the feeling, powering down his examination equipment. It was probably nothing. And if it was, it seemed to have been immediately important in the past, not present. Isolating the mystery of those thought processes away, beating back the feeling that lives had been lost due to his ignorance, he stepped away and locked the piece up safely.

He had other things more immediately useful to concentrate on.

* * *

Ben awoke to the sound of the old hangar doors squeaking open and an engine casually idling in. Ben had the feeling this wasn't the first time he had left during the night without her knowledge. Though in all the days she'd been here, nights where she'd slept all the way through and nights spotted with periods of being awake were about half and half. Unusual for her... She chalked it up to the mechanoid's generator material scavenger hunts wearing her out. Sleep didn't used to be something she was particularly acquainted with, much less _fond_ of.

"What makes you so sure that no one will pick up my 'energy signature' while you're away?" she asked, rubbing her eye as she sat up and he rolled to a stop in his usual spot.

He scoffed. "We're 'out in the middle of nowhere,' as you put it. Not to mention, dampening field set up around the perimeter, oh human of many tried insults."

Ben humorously scoffed back in consent. Her body turned to place a foot on the floor as she lifted her arms above her head and stretched the morning's stiffness away.

However, she was impeded from standing and going through the door to continue the rest of her morning routine when, once the hangar doors had finished squeaking back shut behind him, Arson transformed and moved to where she was in a kneel.

Ben took the small bottle that was offered from careful metal fingers. She stared at the intricately complicated words on the labeling that adorned the glass. Medical terms. Chemical symbols. Warnings.

The bottle looked lifted straight from a hospital.

"_Wwhaat_ is _thiiis_?" she asked in drawn out singsong.

"The key to you staying quiet long enough for the Autobots to take you in."

Ben stared at him for a few moments, bottle still in hand, before responding pointedly.

"You know, I'm not sure if I'm offended, grateful, or scared right now. Maybe a fine mix of the three."

He rumbled. Then, he delicately picked up something from his other hand, again offering it to her.

This object was strap-like; two thin black tubes side by side which felt almost foam-like, protecting perhaps wires in their centers. And at either of their ends, a piece of metal; one looking like a connector, and the other not only like its socket, but a chip of sorts as well.

"Aaaand this?" she asked the mechanoid as he retreated.

He settled against the wall. "I can't say that I'm sure," Arson said; and she could tell he was genuine, the way he stared at the device as well. "But I was instructed to have you wear it."

Ben gave a look up at him where he was sitting.

Noticing, he tilted his head slightly, regarding her. "You do not like it?" he asked. Ben caught the condescending, mocking tone and sighed.

"Well, it does look like something I could usually get away with wearing. But given the circumstances and where it came from..." she trailed off, muttering something barely audible about "a collar."

Arson sighed, a sound that was more like a windy hissing from the large metallic being, as he eased his head back against the wall with a quiet _clang_. "Just put it on, organic."

_Don't make me have to intervene and make you_ Ben mockingly filled in for him as she wrapped the band around her neck.

It took her a minute to fasten the..._choker_ around her neck. Having forgotten in her lingering morning groginess to move her hair, her fingers and the ends of the apparatus had gotten tangled in the wiry strands. She finally managed to re-separate all and got her hair above the operation. She turned the choker around so the metal fastener was on the side of her neck. Careful not to pinch skin, she clicked it shut.

Only to yip unexpectedly as a sharp, static-like pain came from the metal piece, followed by what she was _sure_ was a needle stabbing into her neck. Her head began to spin.

Ben groaned when she opened her eyes for a moment to find the lines on the floor distorting. She swore under her breath.

"It will pass," said Arson from where he'd lifted his head and assessed her. He still kept an eye on her though.

Ben half nodded her head, her forehead in her palm. A headache like she hadn't experienced since the day they'd first met had slowly come after the needle prick. Though she hadn't really realized that the headaches had slowly gone away since that fateful day, she now greatly regretted taking the fact for granted.

"Well we have a hint of what _something_ does..," she said, voice slightly hoarse. Arson rumbled, though she couldn't tell in what.

"So, before I pass out," she said, pressing fingertips to a temple. "What, exactly, is this stuff for?"

"To infiltrate the Autobot base."

Oh right. She did vaguely remember him saying something along those lines before the throbbing headache. "So, what, the Autobots just settled down somewhere and... Well... I guess there _was _military involved in the Mission City thing last year, from the rumors."

"Yes."

Organic eyes snapped to the mechanoid's (albiet in an 'ow my head...' squint).

"Wait-wait," interjected Ben, shaking her head—eyes closing as the movement made the throbbing grow worse momentarily. "Base? So we're talking a _military_ base?"

"Most likely."

"And Starscream _knows_ that there are, like, powerful—well, powerfully armed—humans there? You know, with weapons? That can probably hurt you guys too?"

Arson rumbled slightly in what sounded like a mocking laugh.

"The likes of Starscream is not concerned with the likes of any part of your human 'National Defense' system."

In slow motion, she straightened from where she'd been leaned forward towards him, holding her hands up in a sign of giving up. Once these beings had something in their minds, unless you had solid, scientific proof, it was sometimes hard to convince them otherwise.

_This_ she thought, _is probably going to be the _dumbest _thing we've done_... "...Alright. So how do we go about achieving this?" _Can't wait to hear _this _plan..._

"In essence," Arson growled, "y_ou_ get to go be an Autobot _pet_ whilst _I_ get to get ordered to fix Stockade's blunder."

Silent for a moment, she screwed her face at him with a sharp release of air through her nostrils.

"Yeah, it's not looking much different here. You do realize you practically just gave me a collar and...—I _hope _it's just sedative? Ingredients for the perfect toy dog during a thunderstorm." She quickly asked her next question before he had a chance to go at the metaphor. "And how do I achieve 'Autobot pet' status?"

"Through little to no effort of your own, I assure you," he grumbled.

She fell back on the bed, forgetting about morning breath and eye rheum with the head pain. "Yes, 'Ben do nothing' missions. I like it already." Her throbbing head lauded.

* * *

Chasing after fleeing Decepticons into tight spaces, Ratchet realized, may _not_ have been the brightest strategy.

Especially not in as large of a group as they had.

The element of surprise had been on their side. That is, of course, until a mishap by Ironhide had spooked the lonely drone. Though it _had_ seemed to have caused its fellows nearby to beat a retreat as well. Optimus, Ironhide, and a pair of soldiers in a Humvee had taken one group. Salvage, Ratchet, Bumblebee, and Salani and Epps in their own separate vehicle had taken the other.

None of the Decepticons were trying to fight them, merely escape. Why the Decepticons were passing up on their favorite passtime to run, they didn't know. With the fact that Ratchet and the others themselves had come to the area merely for reconnaisance of a vague, what had seemed to be lingering drone signal, they were surprised in the first place to find an actual drone still there. So with the unplanned encounter, the goal became to either stop or destroy them before they could reach a more populated area. Otherwise, they might break their discretionary field fund keeping people quiet with their lack of cover story; for lack of a better option, not wanting higher to hear about the catastrophe this was teetering on a razor's edge of becoming.

Of course, the fact that their quarry kept leading them through places with limited to no room (at the moment, they drove under a parking garage) to transform, left them little to no options towards _ending_ the chase.

That was why no one objected when Bumblebee and Salvage carefully began to fire upon the drones and Decepticon in their fleeing party. Carefully, because their was more than just a chance that a shot that had missed its mark could hit and remodel a car or a building. Or worse yet, a civilian.

Bumblebee was the primary firer, as Salvage's line of sight was near-constantly blocked where Bumblebee was leading their procession. And though skilled the yellow scouts shots were, none had any effect as they either merely skimmed their mark, or were dodged accordingly.

That is, until the claret truck in the group was clipped in the taillight by a shot.

Ratchet watched as the shot caused the pursued mech to make a wild turn, nearly sluing right into one of the pillars holding up the upper levels.

What surprised the medic, was when with the force of the truck's motion, _something fell out_ of its now open tailgate. Something that looked and read a lot like...

"_Bumblebee! BRAKE!_"

"_I see her_," the scout replied, the stress and shock equivalent in his tone. The Camaro swerved and hit the brakes, tires barely keeping from clipping the new human speed bump. Ratchet swerved the other direction due to lack of room, successfully blocking any of the rest of their group from passing. As the Decepticons had probably intended.

"_Ratchet, you stay and assist the humans_," spoke Optimus, having received the databurst of what had occurred on their end. His own engine still revved loudly in the background. "_Autobots, continue the pursuit_."

Bumblebee edged around, managing to nothing more than scrape a car as he got back on track.

Once the rest of that team had passed, Epps and Salani emptied out of their Humvee, heading toward the deposited body.

"She has a pulse," Ratchet stated as they neared. "She appears to merely be unconscious, or perhaps sedated, since she does not appear damaged or flustered."

Salani knelt, looking more closely at the girl. Her only injuries appeared to be the scrapes she'd received just minutes before. She had probably just fainted upon being kidnapped by a probably driver-less truck. He looked up at Epps.

"So, assuming she didn't see any robots and if she did she won't believe it, we just hand her over to local authorities and call it a day," he said to the tech.

"I don't think that wise."

Salani raised his brow at the chartreuse ambulance.

"Because...?" he prompted.

Ratchet rolled a bit closer. "Because she is giving off a detectable energy level."

Epps let his head drop some.

"She _what_?"

"I am just as perplexed, Sergeant Epps," Ratchet consented. "This might explain what the Decepticons were doing here tonight. And I doubt they dumped such a human off on purpose. What would that accomplish?"

"Not to mention no human in their right mind would be likely _working_ with the Decepticons," Salani input. "But still—She's giving off an _energy_? Like a _Cybertronian_ energy?"

"It would appear so. Which is why it is probably in our best interest to move her _now_, before she redraws unwanted attention. She should ride with me. I can shield her signal."

Epps sighed, holstering his weapon.

"This day just keeps getting better..."

* * *

Ben sighed, slumping down some in her seat. They'd been driving for over an hour, nearly two now, Arson using the time to off an on explain the plan that he'd seemed to be modifying even as they were on their way to initiate.

The gps screen flickered, a red face-like symbol appearing and rotating back and forth, giving what it looked like from different perspectives. "This insignia constitutes that the bearer is of the Autobot faction."

Ben stared intently. "...does this screen _usually_ broadcast in HD, or did you mod it?"

The truck around her rumbled. "_Focus._"

She chuckled amicably, though the throbbing headache caused her to stop. "Sorry. Just curious. Continue."

After a few more moments, the screen flickered again, this time showing a purple, more pointed looking symbol. "And this, is the Decepticon insignia."

"Cranky old man face, them. Angry badger face, us. Got it."

"They've found them," he informed her, taking a mildly sharp u-turn and speeding up a bit. "Get ready."

Ben sighed, unbuckling her seat belt to crawl into the backseat. "One kidnapped-looking human, coming up..," she groused. The cartoons' 'splat' images that refused to stop playing in her head were _not_ helping. Reaching for the bottle and cloth, she wondered distantly what she would look like in pancake form...

.

At least, that's all Ben _remembered_ of the ordeal. After that, whatever Arson had done must have made the situation look quiet convincing; the scrapes on her hands and wrists (that made her thankful for her jacket) attested to this. Not to mention the bump on her head. Though, she realized, she should probably be grateful it was _just_ a bump.

Otherwise, once she woke up, she was already inside what she _presumed_ was the base. She'd been greeted with the expected "Are you okay?"'s and "What's your name?", but when she tried to answer, found she_couldn't. _Her throat was surprisingly clogged and congested, so any words had merely come as a squeak. There must have been more than just sedative in that bottle, it had dawned on her. Nothing too powerful though, as her throat was already beginning to clear after what couldn't have been more that an hour. Not that anyone around her had to _know _that...

"We just need to process you, then we'll see where it goes from there," the soldier next to her in the middle cart of the mini-in-building convoy smiled amicably at her—Salani, from his name tape.

But her heart jumped, though she tried not to show it with her distressed nod. Process? What did that mean? They were just trying to find out who she was despite her lack of any form of identification? Or they already assumed she was a criminal? It was only about the second full sentence anyone had said directly to her since she had woken up here, so it was hard to tell. And she hadn't _heard_ anyone say anything about the giant alien robots yet...

Still, either option didn't sound like a good one; she was a either treason-committing criminal, or a dead person miraculously found alive, probably leading to her being questioned about her involvement with the Decepticons anyway. And probably, if found innocent enough (or other), her 'parents' would be called.

Ugh. Talk about a conversation that didn't want to be had. _Just take me to jail..._ Though she winced at that option too.

Please _be quick with that sign..._

Errantly with a quiet, slightly more successful throat-clearing cough, she wondered what Arson's sign would be. He _had _said something along the lines of causing a power outage, but had said it sounding more like him thinking aloud than—

Suddenly, all the lights went out.

...Well that seemed sign enough. Her mind imprinted the more or less straight path between all the stacks and shelves to her left as it was faded to darkness.

"...What the..." Salani stood and gazed up at the cooling coils in the industrial bulbs high up above, their last bit of light fading. Their little convoy had stopped due to the hazard the lack of sight presented.

"Hell..." He reached and grabbed his comm. "Uh, the lights? Someone, anyone, what's going o—Hey!" Reflexively he dropped the comm into the seat of their transportation and attempted to grab her, but was already too late. He watched in startled confusion as the young woman's sillouhette sprinted away into the darkness with a pretty fast bound for someone in the state they'd _believed _her to be in. "_Hey...!_ Damn it..."

He reached into several pockets (oh, the wonders of having uniforms with near too _many_ pockets) with his weaponless hand as he started after her, despite hearing both his comm calling after him and his fellows in the convoy trying to figure out what was going on.

* * *

Ben finally slowed down once she felt the path she'd seen had come to an end, but she didn't stop. Something her elbow and then shin didn't thank her for upon colliding with things in the darkness. But she couldn't stop, swearing that she'd heard a pursuer come after her, though she could no longer really hear their footfalls.

She was thankful when (apparently weak) back-up generators finally seemed to kick in, relighting the lights just _barely_, and only some of them at that. Still, it was enough that the barely discernable sillouhettes became more sharply outlined nearer the working lights.

Still, her shin decided to say no to any more darting around in the dark as she still collided with something low-down in the spots of still darkness. She reduced her speed to a trot.

The sound of something large shuffling nearby joined her pants in her ears.

* * *

Salani came to a complete stop, growing tired of running into things even in the now-dimness that the back-up generators had presented. He finally victoriously grabbed and cracked a chemical light from one of his remaining unchecked pockets, continuing his search for the young woman.

He heard something shuffle nearby.

Cautiously making his way to the spot, he held the chem light out in front of him with the hand that _wasn't_ nervously ready on his weapon. "Okay," he called into the darkness. "There's no reason to...panic and hide, or run away or whatever. Just come back and we'll get this all worked out..."

As he stepped past the crate that was at the corner, a growl from his left caught the man's attention.

The growl had had a metallic undertone to it. So even though he knew he wouldn't like what he found, even though he knew he would regret it, still he turned to the sound's source.

When his eyes met the gleam of a metal leg, following them upwards to meet a pair of violet optics, his little experience against their robotic allies' counterparts let his mind freeze.

The metal giant opened its mouth enough to expose lethally sharp, metal dagger-teeth as it growled again. Salani felt hot air from within it blow around him. Slowly, he backed away from it, mouth slightly ajar as he gaped at the beast. The quadruped took one step forward, deadly talons gleaming as it lifted one of its massive paws. It gave a slight snarl. Snarl, though it had the undertones of an engine revving powerfully.

"Ohh, mother f—..."

He trailed off as the thing roared tersely, inevitably leading to a heart wrenching all-out roar.

Knowing the odds that a fifteen foot _stride _had against his three foot sprint, rather than run, the soldier instead leveled his sabot launcher.

This obviously wasn't the welcome the beast wanted.

Before Salani could react, metal jaws clamped unexpectedly down onto his weapon. He cried out when his hand, not quite fully making it away in time, caught some of the slag and shrapnel from the sparking mass that used to be a sabot launcher. Dropping the thousands-of-dollars now-chewtoy at his feet, the human fell as the beast took a purposeful step towards him.

Their eyes stayed locked, one challenging to get on with it, the other...frozen. Salani was infinitely confused, but didn't dare move with the mechanoid's silhouette towering over him, slag from what once was his weapon still dripping from its growling jaws. For whatever reason, there was no doubt in his mind that if he could see his own forehead, red laser-points in the formation of a star would be dead center. Where was the mud and the fire when you needed it...

But then, as he continued the human-to-machine staring contest, he saw something in the light of the emergency back-ups. Though said lights just made the darkness dim at best, it was still enough for his disbelieving eyes to see the girl for a second step quickly over onto the mechanoid's back from the stack of crates to one side of him.

With one final '_Stay_.' snarl, the quadruped pivoted on rear footing, taking off to leave Salani gaping after them in incredulity.

* * *

"_That_ was discreet," Ben scoffed at his actions, turning to face forward as she could no longer see the carnage her keeper had left behind. Now, from the alarming shouts she could hear nearby, the entire place was about to know Arson was there thanks to his little vocalization and action. Then again, she reminded herself as he sped up to an all-out run that was surprisingly more smooth than she had anticipated, a giant metal lizard running through the bays would probably call for more action than just 'Don't use the good shoe.'

The smoothness of his strides didn't change the fact that she still had to hold on for dear life, his unexpected speed presenting the challenge she'd thought the jarring would. What little of his armor was directly behind her helped a little as she leaned forward to keep hold better, but not much.

He took an extended dash, narrowly avoiding a shot that was the beginning of a salvo as he turned a corner sharply. _That_ was less smooth, causing Ben to hold on a little tighter.

Arson straightened out and regained his rhythm, vocals releasing a few warbles coupled with a snarl.

One of the human shots caught him in the foreleg. While it did little to penetrate his armor, it surprised him; it slowly began to..._sting_.

This distracted him enough to slow him down. A fact he was grateful for a moment later, upon picking up a Cybertronion energy signature approaching from up ahead. Something about the building made long range scanning for Cybertronian signals even within it inefficient and fuzzy at best; he'd only found Ben once she was inside due to the tracer in the device she wore, coded so the Autobots either didn't or _couldn't_ detect it. But now, he realized that short range scans were largely unfazed.

Disregarding the fact that the source had to be nearly _upon_ him before he could detect it.

The quadruped skidded to a sudden halt, a few sparks lighting the dimness. He bowed and shrugged Ben unceremoniously off of his back behind a metal shelving that nearly scaled to the ceiling.

—Nearly in tandem to a glowing plasma shot that somehow merely managed to graze his back.

* * *

The burly dark Autobot ran forward from where he had transformed once he'd achieved visual confirmation of the intruder, cannons still primed

"_Ah... Autobot Ironhide. We meet again._"

Ironhide narrowed his eyes at the four-legged machine facing him when he received the successfully distracting communication over the digital channel that had hailed him, confirming his suspicions that he'd seen the mech before.

"_Again?_" he sent back, cautiously. His weapons were at the ready, and already he could hear more humans—armed—running their way. If this was the beast's way of bluffing his way out, the old warrior did not see the success in it.

The beast's maw reset in such a way that the weapons specialist was given the impression that he was smirking.

"_Well, it wasn't so much of _meetings_, I suppose. Simply the fact that it's hard to be entangled in the war and not come across Prime's 'figureheads' on at least one occasion._"

Immediately, the Autobot's memory banks brought forward scenes from near every Cybertronion battle he'd ever participated in. From the least gruesome, to the reconnaissance missions gone wrong. Still, as he reflected...

"_I don't recall ever seeing you—_"

"_You wouldn't,_" Arson cut him off. "_Many times I'd been informed of your successes—and failures—in driving back Decepticon forces. Several feats, I even witnessed myself. Take Perihex, for example."_

Taking the Ironhide's lack of response as an opportunity to continue, Arson did so.

"_Most of those Decepticon troops were put offline or driven back by your own hand, or under your guidance._" The beast lowered his stance some, optics never leaving the mechanoid in front of him. "_I can respect that. But right now, you are standing between me and my exit._"

With that, he growled menacingly, a glow emitting from somewhere in his throat.

"_Move..,"_ he burst. Weapons in the form of mounted missile racks rose from his shoulders. Being the weapons specialist that he was, Ironhide immediately saw that they were being primed. _Or BE_ _moved._

Ironhide lowered his bulk slightly as well, raising his cannons.

"Try it," he spoke.

The mech flicked his tail, giving a snarl as he released the missiles.

Ironhide managed to dodge most, surprisingly swift for his appearance, but some caught him. True to his namesake, his armor was fortunately thick enough to take such abuse, so he was largely unfazed. When he heard the footfalls of his opponent clearing the ground between them, however, he knew his armor was about to go through a new test.

As soon as Arson had seen the humans, armed with their seemingly innocuous yet—his still mildly stinging foreleg reminded him—apparently not little weapons round the corner, he knew his current tactical position was disadvantageous. So, he decided to switch tactics to up close and personal combat, running forward and attaching himself to the other with his teeth.

The quadruped grappled with him in a short battle to overpower the other, before gaining enough purchase on the ground. Purchase which he then used along with his own weight, before Ironhide could level a cannon at him in this point-blank range, to toss the other.

For all the Autobot's mass, it wasn't a very significant toss. But it was enough that he was hard-pressed to keep from crushing any of the humans he was sent hurtling towards.

Just about to reclaim Ben and make good their escape on short notice, Arson stiffened where he had risen. A new energy signal was approaching from the just cleared path; a more prominent one. Still Autobot, but...

Immediately, the beast shot at Ironhide with his primary strength weapon. The old mech was diverted to protect the humans again.

Taking full advantage of this distraction, Arson leapt over to where Ben was hiding.

Ben saw him for a split second as he reappeared around the shelf. Expecting him to lower so she could climb back aboard, she was startled when his throat turbine whirred loudly and she was blasted with jet-force winds. It made her stumble backward and fall in a more or less sitting position, finding herself tucked more away between the shelf and a stack of boxes on her other side once she could open her eyes again.

Arson returned to his original spot just as the signal sources came around the corner. His optics locked on the newcoming vehicles as they approached, bending his forelegs to settle slightly more into his crouch. He paid Ironhide a snarl as the old warrior pointed cannons at the red beast, instantly becoming confused at Arson's new stance and lack of weapons.

The flame adorned Peterbilt came to a stop next to the befuddled Autobot, transforming in tandem with the search and rescue Hummer that had arrived next to it.

"_Greetings...Optimus Prime._"

Optimus regarded the beast with critical optics upon receiving the digital communication, his humming canon lowering cautiously to his side.

"Why have you come here?" he asked, skipping the formalities.

Arson took a small step back, lowering his head slightly more. "_I'm afraid I cannot tell you that, Prime. However, my purposes here did not involve engaging you in combat._"

Ironhide spoke just as the Prime's mouth was opening to speak again.

"Why the sudden change? You were more than ready to turn me into a scrap heap a nanosec ago!"

"_And still am,_" replied Arson, baring his clenched teeth at Ironhide slightly.

Ironhide bristled, taking a step forward. "Afraid?" he challenged.

"Sensible_, would be the word you're looking for there,_" Arson transmitted, giving a huff at Ironhide. His optics rested on each Autobot for a mere moment in turn, pointing out his current 'outnumbered' situation; sans even having to mention that among them were the Prime and his right-hand gunman.

"Ironhide..." came Ratchet's voice. The weapon's specialist growled slightly, but pulled back nearer to his comrades. Arson continued to glare at him passively.

"Always the cowards hiding behind brawn and intimidation. Eh, _Decepticon_?" growled Ironhide, controlling his temper on all other grounds.

Arson bared his teeth more and gave a vicious snarl, but stopped himself, deciding not to level with the Autobot.

Meanwhile, Ben—wondering what Earth product was the equivalent of alien-robot breath mints and where she could get _enough _of it—peeked out some from her hiding place.

She leaned forward from where she was concealed ever so slightly, trying to view at least a _little _more of the scene playing out before her. The dim outline of the Autobots' shadows were still there, and yet, there was an eerie stillness between them and Arson.

She was infinitely confused.

They kept speaking aloud, as if conversing with someone. But Arson was in his quadruped state, and as far as the lack of _words_ she'd ever heard from him while he was with tail, he couldn't speak while in this form. Although, she realized, the mechanoids probably _did_ have inaudible means of communicating amongst themselves. Now that she thought about it, she'd be more surprised if they _didn't_. The Autobots currently speaking aloud could be justified by courtesy for the soldiers aligning themselves with them.

But then that brought the question of what they were talking _about_. Whatever it was, she could have _sworn_ she'd seen Arson give what could have been taken as half a _bow_ when the latter two mechanoids had arrived. Or at the very least, his head had lowered more humbly.

Was he mocking them? Was it genuine? Was her current buzzing adrenaline high just making her see things...?

She beat back her curiosity as she shook her head roughly, gluing her back to the wall behind her. Now that she really examined him, she noticed for the first time the absence of either faction symbol on his armor. She made a mental note to check his other two forms; _Now _was _not _the time to further divulge in where her keeper stood in relations in the alien-robot war, she reminded herself sternly of the current situation. And just in time too, for a new group of soldiers arrived, one so close to her she could have sneezed and he probably would have felt it, much less heard it. Luckily, all their attention was absorbed by the scene, their weapons leveled at the ready.

Optimus and Ratchet's expressions had been frozen thoughtful and unreadable, respectively. Finally, the leader stepped forward.

"Regardless of your true intentions," spoke Prime, canon still down but ready, "surrender now, and you will not be harmed." Both for more emphasis and as necessary precaution, the Autobot leader reached over to put a hand on his fellow's still-primed-and-pointed cannons. Ironhide huffed in protest, compromising by merely lowering the humming weapons; though _only _enough to be counted as "down."

Arson growled lowly, teeth-daggers clenching tightly as he lowered more into his feral crouch. These terms obviously did not sit well with him.

However, interceding a resolution, all Cybertronian eyes suddenly went up.

The humans didn't have time to question this before a loud clanging from the roof was followed by the ceiling crashing down in an explosion. Drones dropped from everywhere, their red optics seeming to bathe the entire dim room with their color. Everyone in the room seemed to begin shouting at once as shots of plasma and explosions began to light the room as well.

"_Arson!_"

Super-advanced, lightning-fast reflexes saw him wheel about to catch the slab from crushing his ward where she'd dove with his head, jaw slamming with a near-shattering sound into the ground at the impact. Ben saw it reopen a moment later to give her—a strained version of—his customary 'Stupid human...' growl, and also to lift the slab a bit more to fit his arm under.

Once he had precariously balanced himself in his limited space, Arson managed to stick the length of his arm under the slab and hook her jacket—to her slight protesting wincing groan; this was one of her favorite ones—securely with a claw. As he dragged her out, she grabbed the soldier nearest her by the collar, Arson taking the other one from her in a free claw with a growl, lest the extra weight of _both_ the soldiers she was pettily trying to save cause him to lose what little purchase he had on her.

Once he released her, Ben rose to a knee and squinted down at the soldiers. It was hard determine their states with nothing but plasma and weaponry fire for light every few seconds—a factor which made it hard to_concentrate _as well.

"Let's go." She looked up at the sound of Arson's growl. She hadn't heard him transform in all the noise, his vehicle mode's driver door standing impatiently open and waiting.

She complied—after double-taking back away from him to take the weapon she saw laying nearby, hopefully reducing the nearby reforming soldiers' urge to shoot at them by at least some, immediately clicking her seat belt closed and gripping the sides of the seat in anticipation once she returned to the truck.

Arson apparently had conceived a different route of escape in his mind, as he continued their escape back the way they'd come rather than trying to weave through the battlefield. To Ben's surprise, they were very quickly outside in the last of the set sun's light—albeit, through an impromptu exit in the wall a stray shot had apparently caused. There were a few shots after them by soldiers apparently late to the main fray. Daring to stop trying to make herself as small as possible after realizing that the shots that hit were merely glancing off of Arson's exterior, Ben straightened up and watched back, her head practically pressed against her window to see. Her mind boggled at, judging by the sun's light, it _had_ been at least an entire day since they'd set this plan in motion.

Spontaneously and with no prior warning at all, Arson slammed on brakes as he took a sharp turn at the last possible moment, Ben's head pulled away from then smacking into the window with the sudden movement.

Her eyes closed, Ben pointed at the steering wheel. After a moment however, she relaxed her pose and opened the hand, as if letting something drop from it.

"You know what? I'm going to let that one go, just because I know we're running for something like our lives here. But just know, it has been etched onto the grudge list. Etched."

Arson growled.

The sound was nearly swallowed in the sound of the shot that erupted against his side.

The truck spun in circles from the sheer force of it and lack of friction on the dusty dirt road, finally coming to a halt after he smashed through the door of one of the storage areas and smacked into the wall.

Ben saw the unblocked passenger's door opened across from her once the vertigo stopped spinning her vision.

"_Out!_"

Ben was quick on the uptake of the barked command, Arson releasing her seatbelt and she practically bounding over the middle console and out of the door.

Only to be confronted by four mechanoids, each sporting a lone, oversized crimson optic. One on the end—the taller, more triangular one—had a cannon for an arm, its end glowing and still smoking slightly from the fired shot.

She squeaked in surprise as one of them reached down for her as the firer took another shot at the transforming truck behind her, dodging and running past Arson to find cover as he caved the drone's chest in with an elbow, perceiving the sign of continued hostilities.

But even as he finished the first victim of the fight off, grabbing and attempting to disengage the next, he could feel that something wasn't right. When one of them landed a hit into his back and it caused him to stagger all the way down to a knee, he couldn't shake the surprise.

Drones weren't the easiest targets out there, but it shouldn't be—_was never_—this hard. How were these _drones besting_ him?

It was then he realized. Everywhere he'd taken a shot from the humans' weapons, now, as if something about the seemingly harmless shells had gone through his armor to his circuitry..._burned_. He could feel himself weakening by the second; as if the more energy he exerted, the weaker the burning made him become.

He growled in irritation at this. The four-on-one odds now put him at a disadvantage now when normally he could have handled them; the fact that he took out one, severely damaged another, and fairly scuffed the rest despite his injuries were proof of this.

Still, he thought, he could last long enough. Hand converting to cannon, he primed the weapon as he stood and pointed it at the nearest drones to eviscerate them.

Or so he thought.

Of the quartet, the two who had gone largely unscathed (the alpha one of them of course) stood there. And in the smaller drones clenched fist as he rose from where he'd been knocked, Ben struggled.

Arson held his ground, trembling dangerously as a low rumbling emanated from his broadened form. A quietly challenging, low revving escaped him every few seconds. His narrowed eyes blazed sharply against the dimness, intent upon the human in the grasp of his opponent.

Violet optics scanned the young woman habitually. Increased heart rate, elevated adrenaline levels, heightened respiratory activity: all to be expected. Her expression had more or less gone back to the frustrated 'Crap...' from the '_Hoshit-!_' it had hit when Arson had first leveled his cannon at them. Regardless, she seemed largely unscathed as she continued to struggle.

Seeing that he had his opponent held at bay simply by being in possession of the human, the slightly smaller mech seemed to gain some confidence at his added leverage. He seemed to bristle some, gaining the nerve to stare straight into the other's violently glaring optics with his own single orb.

"Kneel."

The commanded's only reaction was to clench his claws at a slightly slower and more menacing, but still consistent repetition.

Ben made a strained frustrated noise with her struggle at freedom as she managed to wriggle one arm free. "I thought you said they were on our side?" she growled to Arson amidst intermittent grunts.

_They're SUPPOSED to be_, Arson answered internally, furious visage still locked on the drone in possession of his charge. The thought to obey the drone's command did not even think to occur to his mind. And why should it have, when the would-be-commander had no means of control over him?

He flinched vaguely as the human let out a noise with the air forced out of her lungs by the spastic tightening of the grip around her, her struggles instantly quelled. His no longer narrowed optics focused on the scene, a thought of relevance occurred to him:

This was a drone. A mindless machine. Knowing only what its commander programs into it. Too simple-minded to know the limits of Ben's structure, or possibly: to care. Capable of destruction outside of what it's ordered.

The drone lowered its head slightly. The shutters of its lone optic drew in, giving the impression of a narrowed eye.

"_Kneel,_" it rasped. The warning was there, discernible. And his human's russet complexion, though only faintly seen, was paling quickly as she remained disallowed to breathe.

Arson internally roared in hatred. Slowly, as painfully slowly as possible, cautiously, the mechanoid lowered himself to a knee, retracting his weapon. The two other drones coming and securing restraints on his arms in the next moment was not entirely unexpected. The bonds still allowed him to convert to vehicle mode, designed to transform with their prisoner.

As they did their work, their captive glaring daggers at the one in current possession of Ben, the commander's grip gradually loosened. Ben's practically unconscious form hastily gulped down the air. The drone seemed to pay it no mind, looking down on the seemingly calmly submitting keeper, rage masked.

"Useless fool," said the alpha, as if getting in one final slap to the face.

Turning, the lead drone transformed into vehicle mode, the human (still wavering in limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness) ending up inside of him. He rolled toward the road slowly, waiting.

"Let's go!" scratched one of the remaining drones, jabbing at Arson as his companion followed suit of the first, morphing and taking to the skies. Watching him circle above for a moment, the captive obeyed, transforming into the vehicle with little difficulty. He followed the first, the other flanking him from behind.

* * *

A/N: (Fun fact: Even if you replace the 'a' in rapine with another 'e', it still works/makes sense and works/makes sense with what happens! Such things are what appeal to my nerdiness and tickle me nerdily on the inside.)

Dah-HA! Finding substance to fill/redirect accidentally created immediate plot direction, one "Whoops..." at a time. If you're asking yourself what I'm talking about, then my work here is done.

Despite that minor thing (or was it _several_ minor things...), I did take some information out of earlier chapters. The only thing I can remember deleting—frikkn' missing flashdrive...—is Ben's back story. So if you got to read that, consider yourself _possibly_ sneak-peaked. I just couldn't read it without making scrunched up "Eehhhh" faces at it no matter what I did to it. And it sounded _and _was placed _way _too fanfiction-character stereotypical. (_Swear _I wanna beat my younger self over the head with something hard and heavy for so many reasons...) So gone, it is, until fix it up and stick it in elsewhere, I can. Or possibly just leave it in its corner to rot and die. We'll see.

Oh, and I'm gonna change her last name too. Probably. Remembered that there were past movieverse connections to "Avery." (For a last name I came up with by looking at a label pack nearby, what are the odds? Grr... Alan Dean Foster must buy the same labels...) And I hate having a potentially corny connection even exist in this case, so yeah. Curse you, delayed reaction memory...

Why did I keep trying to type "transformering" everywhere "transforming" went? Derp. Hilarious...

Figured I'd throw Salani in there, since he didn't really get to do anything in the prequels (not counting implied stuff) but, ya know, fail to stop idiot scientist from bringing AllSpark shard too close to low-on-Energon do-want-it self-stasis-ing biding-my-time Decepticon. You know those times when you're reading something and you're like "WOW you're an idiot." Yeah. It wasn't _technically_ Salani's fault though, so I still love you.

Oh, and, _using Cybertronian places created for a board game ftw._

Ugh, why do creative juices flow more the sleepier you get? Yes, brain, 1a.m. is the _perfect _time to finally get on a roll writing after trying _all day_. Tired...


End file.
